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^ 


BESSIE    ON    HER   TRAVELS, 


BOOKS  BY  JOANNA  H.  MATHEWii. 


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ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BROTHERS, 

New  York. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


http://archive.org/details/bessieonhertraveOOmath 


's  Travels, 


FBOSTISFIECE. 


BESSIE 


ON 


HER    TRAVELS 


BY 


JOANNA   H.  MATHEWS. 


Glad  hearts,  without  reproach  or  hlot, 
Which  do  thy  work,  and  know  it  not." 


NEW    YORK. 
ROBERT   CARTER   AND   BROTHERS, 

630,   BEOAliWAY. 


Entered  according  to  A.ct  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

BOBBKT  OABTEB  AND  BR0THEB8, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


DEDICATED 

TO 

LITTLE    FLORENCE    GUERNSEY, 

AS 

A  SMALL  TOKEN  OF  APPKEOIATION  OP  HER  FATHER'S  LONG  AND 

FAITHFUL  friendship;  AND  WITH  THE  HOPE  THAT 

THIS  LAST  MAY  NOT  PROVE  TO  HER  THB 

LBAST  OF  THE  "  BESSIE  BOOKS." 


CONTENTS. 


I     Packing  up •••..  9 

n     At  Sea 88 

ni.    Lucy 54 

IV.  An  Old  Enemy,  but  Nbtv  Feiend  ...  80 

V.    Belle's  Home 101 

VI.    Letters 127 

VIL    A  "  Keal,  Real  Adventuee  " 157 

VIII.    Old  Joe 184 

IX.    Kate 211 

X.  Maggie's  Poem     .•••••••..  232 

XL    Good  Seed 256 

XII.    "  Happy  Delights  *' 275 

XIII.  Little  Acts  of  Kindness 301 

XIV.  Water-Lilies 330 

XV.  "Of  Such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven"  351 


BESSIE    ON    HEU    TRAVELS. 


PACKING  UP. 


HAT  a  twitter  and  flutter  and  chirp- 
ing there  was  in  the  pretty  nest 
which  Maggie  and  Bessie  Bradford 
called  their  own  room ;  for  there  were  four 
little  girls,  who  were  to  start  together  the  next 
day  on  their  travels,  and  there  was  so  much 
to  be  talked  over.  All  the  new  places  they 
were  to  visit,  all  the  wonderful  things  they 
were  to  see  and  do ;  and,  more  than  all,  that 
sea  voyage  of  three  or  four  days.  For  none 
of  them  but  Belle  had  ever  been  to  sea,  and  it 
would  be  quite  a  new  thing  to  all  the  rest. 


lo  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Then  there  was  the  packing,  about  which 
both  Maggie  ana  Bessie,  especially  the  former, 
had  been  greatly  concerned  for  the  last  week ; 
for  it  seemed  impossible  to  them  that  nurse 
and  Jane  could  make  all  the  necessary  prepa- 
rations for  this  important  journey  on  the  day 
before  that  on  which  they  were  to  start. 

That  morning  Maggie's  excitement  and  im- 
patience had  overflowed.  Waking  at  a  very 
early  hour,  and  finding  Bessie  still  sleeping, 
she  lay  a  few  moments  thinking  of  all  that 
was  to  be  done  that  day,  and  wondering  that 
the  household  should  still  be  so  quiet,  with  the 
prospect  of  such  important  business  before 
them. 

"  I  just  expect  the  end  of  the  matter  will  be 
that  every  one  in  the  house,  even  poor  mam- 
ma, who  is  not  so  very  well  yet,  will  have  to 
turn  to  and  help  to  make  up  for  their  pro-cras- 
to-na-tion  !  "  said  she  to  herself,  indignantly ; 
"  and  I've  just  a  great  mind  to  begin  packing 
up  myself,  to  set  them  a  good  example,  and 
make  them  ashamed  of  a  little  girl  like  me 


Packing  Uf,  ii 

taking  time  by  the  forelock  so  much  better 
than  they  do." 

No  sooner  said  than  done ;  and  Maggie 
s.crambled  out  of  bed  and  into  her  dressing- 
gown  and  slippers  quite  forgetting  to  pause 
and  think  whether  or  no  mamma  would  ap- 
prove of  her  running  about  the  house  in  such 
a  guise,  and  if  she  would  not  be  giving  more 
trouble  than  help  by  meddling  with  what  she 
did  not  understand. 

Upstairs  she  trotted  to  the  topmost  story, 
where  was  a  room  which  Fred  called  the  "  put- 
all-room,"  and  which  held,  not  only  trunks 
and  boxes  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  but  a  couple 
of  great,  old-fashioned  presses,  and  many 
another  article  not  in  common  daily  use,  and 
stored  there  to  be  out  of  the  way.  The 
children  thought  it  rather  a  treat  to  go  in  now 
and  then  with  mamma  or  nurse,  to  rummage 
there  and  see  what  they  could  spy  out :  bu^ 
none  of  them  had  ever  gone  there  alone  or 
without  permission ;  and  if  Maggie  had  taken 
time  to  reflect,  I  think  she  would  have  known 


12  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

that  her  mamma  would  not  wish  her  to 
do  so,  though  she  had  never  positively  for- 
bidden it. 

But  just  now  the  busy  little  head  was  too 
full  of  plans  for  making  herself  useful,  to  take 
heed  of  any  thing  else ;  and  finding  what  she 
had  hoped  for,  that  the  door  was  unlocked, 
she  opened  it,  and  went  in.  The  trunks  were 
not  piled  together  at  one  end  as  they  usually 
were,  but  stood  singly,  here  and  there  about 
the  room,  just  as  Patrick  had  left  them  the 
day  before,  when  he  had  examined  them  to 
see  if  they  were  in  good  order ;  and  this  Mag- 
gie observed  with  great  satisfaction. 

"  It  just  seems  as  if  it  was  fixed  to  be  con- 
venient for  me,"  she  said  to  herself;  "  and  now 
I  can  try  which  is  the  heaviest  one  I  can  pull. 
I  know  I  could  not  take  those  largest  down- 
stairs, but  I  think  I  could  one  of  the  mid- 
dlings." 

But,  after  various  trials,  she  found  to  her 
great  disappointment,  that  she  could  by  no 
means   move  even  one  of  the  "  middlings  ;  " 


Packing  LPp,  13 

and  was  at  last  forced  to  content  herself  with 
a  small  black  leather  trunk,  in  which  she 
thought  she  would  put  some  of  her  own 
and  Bessie's  clothes. 

"  For  a  pack  in  time  saves  nine,"  said  Mag- 
gie to  herself;  "  and  even  if  it  does  not  hold 
much,  this  little  trunk  is  a  better  beginning 
than  nothing." 

Having  fixed  upon  this  prize,  she  contrived 
with  some  trouble  to  drag  it  from  the  room, 
and  push  and  pull  it  to  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
But  here  a  new  difficulty  arose.  She  could  by 
no  means  lift  the  trunk  and  carry  it  down  : 
small  as  it  was  for  the  amount  of  packing  she 
wished  to  do,  it  was  quite  too  heavy  for  her 
little  strength ;  and  though  for  one  moment 
she  thought  of  pushing  it  over  the  edge  of  the 
top  stair,  and  allowing  it  to  slide  down  by  its 
own  weight,  she  soon  reflected  this  would  not 
do. 

"  For  it  will  just  go  and  smash  itself  all  to 
pieces,  I  suppose,  and  then  make  a  horrid 
noise  to  wake  the  people  all  up,"  she  said 


14  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

again,  feeling  rather  vexed  with  the  innocent 
trunk.  "  Oh  !  I  know  what  I'll  do  :  I'll  go  in 
front  of  it  and  pull  it  down  very  gently,  one 
step  at  a  time." 

But  in  spite  of  all  the  pains  she  took,  the 
trunk  seemed  to  Maggie  to  make  the  most  out- 
rageous noise,  sliding  over  each  stair  with  a 
grating  sound,  and  coming  down  from  the 
edge  of  one  to  another  with  a  thump  and  a 
bang,  which  all  her  efforts  could  not  silence. 
She  was  soon  heartily  sorry  that  she  had  ever 
touched  it ;  but  she  must  go  on  now,  for  she 
could  not  possibly  pull  it  up  again,  and  if  she 
left  her  hold  of  it,  it  would  go  tumbling  head' 
long  to  the  bottom. 

However,  she  took  heart  of  grace  again  by 
the  time  she  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  top 
flight,  for  no  one  seemed  to  have  been  dis 
turbed ;  the  servants  having  all  gone  down 
stairs,  and  the  boys,  who  slept  in  the  third 
story,  being  sound  sleepers.  So  she  concluded 
to  go  on  and  not  have  all  her  pains  thrown 
away ;  but  she  had  gone  only  two  or  three 


Packing  U;p,  15 

steps  on  the  second  flight,  her  troublesome 
prize  bumping  after  her,  when  she  heard  her 
father's  voice  from  below. 

"  Wliat  are  jou  busy  with  there,  Patrick  ?  " 
he  said.  "  You  are  disturbing  Mrs.  Bradford, 
and  will  wake  the  children.  Leave  it  till  later 
in  the  day." 

"  0  papa  I "  said  Maggie,  feeling  rather 
guilty,  and  very  much  mortified,  "  it's  not 
Patrick,  but  me ; "  and  as  she  spoke,  she  ap- 
peared round  the  turn  of  the  stairs,  while  her 
attention  being  for  the  moment  diverted,  the 
trunk  slid  after  her  with  a  bang  which  seemed 
to  jar  the  house. 

"  You,  my  daughter !  "  said  Mr.  Bradford, 
coming  up  to  where  Maggie  stood ;  "  and  what 
are  you  doing  here  at  this  time  in  the  morn- 
ing ? "  and  he  looked  down  in  great  surprise 
at  the  small  figure  whose  cheeks  matched  her 
scarlet  dressing-gown,  and  whose  curls  were 
tossed  and  tumbled  in  the  wildest  confusion. 

"It's  this  mean  old  trunk,  papa,"  said  Mag- 
gie, pettisldy ;  "  the  more  I  try  to  make  it  go 


i6  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

softly,  the  more  it  won't,  but  just  squeaks  and 
bumps  all  it  can,  the  horrid  thing  !  "  and  now 
she  gave  up  the  trunk  very  willingly  into  her 
father's  strong  grasp. 

"  What  were  you  doing  with  it  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Bradford. 

"  Taking  it  downstairs,  so  I  could  pack  it 
with  my  things  and  Bessie's,  papa.  I  wanted 
to  take  mamma  by  surprise  to  see  how  useful 
I  could  be." 

"  You  have  taken  mamma  rather  too  much 
by  surprise,"  said  her  father,  unable  to  help 
smiling  ;  "for  you  have  wakened  and  startled 
her.  It  is  well  to  try  to  be  useful,  but  one 
should  try  to  be  thoughtful  and  considerate  at 
the  same  time,  or  our  pains  will  be  quite 
thrown  away,  as  yours  are  now.  You  must 
go  back  to  your  bed,  my  daughter,  and  let  this 
trunk  alone  ;  "  and  lifting  the  trunk  he  carried 
it  to  the  third-story  hall,  Maggie  looking  on 
with  a  very  crestfallen  feeling.  ^ 

"  It  may  stay  there  till  we  see  if  it  is 
needed,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  soothingly,  as  he 


Packing  Up.  17 

saw  her  disturbed  face ;  "  and  by  and  by,  at  the 
proper  time,  you  may  ask  mamma  if  you  can 
help  her ; "  and  taking  the  little  hand  which 
was  trembling  with  cold  and  over-exertion,  he 
led  her  back  to  her  own  room.  Papa  had 
been  very  kind,  and  could  scarcely  be  said  to 
have  found  fault  with  her ;  but  Maggie,  who 
began  to  feel  that  she  had  been  somewhat  to 
blame,  would  rather  have  been  scolded  than 
hear  him  laugh  as  he  did  when  he  told  mam- 
ma how  and  where  he  had  found  her.  She 
did  not  hear  what  he  said,  but  she  knew  very 
well  what  he  was  talking  about,  and  drew  the 
bed-clothes  over  her  head  that  she  might  shut 
out  the  sound  of  his  laughter. 

"  It's  too  bad,"  she  thought :  "  most  always 
when  I  try  to  be  very  superior,  I  make  a  mis- 
take and  people  laugh  at  me  about  it.  I  feel 
as  if  I'd  like  to  be  mad  at  some  one,  but  I 
can't  be  mad  at  papa,  and  I  don't  want  to  be 
mad  at  myself,  'cause  I  didn't  mean  to  do 
wrong;  and  it's  no  use  to  be  mad  at  the 
trunk,  but  I  b'lieve  I  do  feel  a  little  provoked 


i8  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

at  it,  it  has  made  my  hands  hurt,  and  my  arms 
do  ache  so.  I'm  real  tired  too."  And  coming 
to  the  surface  for  air,  Maggie  turned  over  on 
her  side,  and  presently  dropped  off  into  a 
sound  morning  nap ;  so  that  when  nurse  came 
to  tell  her  she  might  get  up,  she  found  her 
still  sleeping  instead  of  wide  awake  as  usual, 
and  was  bidden  by  Mrs.  Bradford  to  let  her 
sleep  as  long  as  she  would  after  her  exertion. 

Maggie  was  rather  subdued  and  quiet  all  the 
iirst  part  of  the  morning,  and  more  than  ever 
grateful  to  papa,  when  she  found  that  he  had 
not  told  the  boys,  and  so  given  them  the 
opportunity  to  tease  and  laugh  at  her. 

"  I  suppose  you  couldn't  let  me  help  you 
after  my  unconsiderate  unusefulness  this  morn 
ing:  could  you,  mamma?"  she  said,  when  she 
saw  her  mother  gathering  together  the  articles 
Jane  was  to  stow  in  the  trunks. 

"  Well,  yes  :  I  think  I  can  find  something 
for  you  and  Bessie  to  do,"  said  mamma:  "you 
may  take  all  these  tapes,  needles,  spools,  and 
80  forth,  into  your  own  room,  and  see  ^how 


Packing  Up,  19 

neatly  you  can  put  them  into  this  box ;  and  all 
these  ribbons  may  go  into  that  one." 

"  Oh  !  thank  you,  mamma :  I  will  let  Bessie 
do  the  ribbons,  'cause  they  are  the  prettiest ; " 
and  away  ran  generous  Maggie  with  her  sister 
to  begin  the  pleasant  task. 

That  done,  mamma  gave  them  leave  to  pack 
the  clothes  belonging  to  Miss  Bessie  Margaret 
Marian,  and  Miss  Margaret  Colonel  Horace 
Rush  Bradford,  in  another  box ;  saying  that 
since  she  did  not  feel  as  if  she  could  do  with- 
out her  own  little  daughters,  she  would  not  ask 
them  to  leave  the  whole  of  their  large  family 
behind,  and  thought  the  dolls  might  prove  a 
great  diversion  when  they  were  tired,  or  per- 
haps shut  up  in  some  hotel  on  a  rainy  day. 

They  were  busy  deciding  what  dresses 
should  be  taken  and  what  left,  when  Mrs.  Nor- 
ris  came  round  to  see  Mrs.  Bradford  for  a  few 
moments,  bringing  Lily  with  her  ;  and  while 
the  ladies  talked  in  one  room,  the  little  girls 
chattered  away  in  the  other,  Belle  coming  Id 
about  the  same  time. 


20  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Lily,  "  is  your  mamma  going 
to  let  you  take  your  large  dolls  ?  my  mamma 
will  only  let  me  take  a  tiny,  weeny  one  that 
can  go  in  a  travelling-bag." 

"  I  wouldn't  take  any  then,"  said  Belle. 
"  I'm  going  to  take  my  largest,  biggest  one  of 
all." 

"  Not  Belle  Maggie  Bessie  ?  "  questioned 
Maggie. 

"  Yes  :  Belle  Maggie  Bessie  !  "  repeated 
Belle,  in  a  tone  of  determined  obstinacy  and 
snappishness,  which  showed  that  the  subject 
was  a  sore  one  with  her. 

"  But  your  papa  said  last  night  that  you 
could  not  take  her,  'cause  such  a  large  doll 
would  be  too  much  trouble,"  said  Bessie. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  I'm  going  to :  he  said  I 
could  this  morning,"  answered  Belle. 

"  Then  you  cried  and  cried  and  bothered 
him,  till  he  said  yes  :  I  know  you,"  said  Mag- 
gie, reproachfully. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Belle ;  but  she  did 
care,  and  now  was  ashamed  that  her  little 


Packing  Up,  21 

playmates  sliould  guess  how  she  had  worried 
her  too  indulgent  papa. 

"  You  might  repent  yet  and  tell  him  you 
won't  take  her,"  said  Bessie. 

"  Yes,  do,  and  make  a  Rip  Yan  Winkle  of 
her,"  said  Maggie. 

"  I  shan't  make  her  that  ugly  thing,  and  1 
shall  take  her,"  said  Belle,  indignantly. 

"  You  needn't  be  so  cross,"  said  Maggie  : 
"  Bessie  and  I  made  all  our  other  dolls  Rip 
Yan  Winkles  and  William  Tells,  and  it  was 
good  fun.  Don't  you  want  to  see  them, 
Lily?" 

Lily  assented  ;  and,  opening  a  deep  drawer 
in  the  bureau,  Maggie  showed  her  all  the  vari- 
ous dolls  belonging  to  herself  and  Bessie,  lying 
with  bandages  on  their  eyes. 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  call  them  William 
Tells  and  that  other  name  for,"  said  Lily. 
"  William  Tell  was  the  man  Miss  Ashton  told 
us  about,  who  shot  an  apple  off  his  son's 
head." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Maggie  ;  "  and  we  told 


22  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Harry  and  Fred  about  it,  but  they  knew  be- 
fore, and  told  us  that  the  Swiss  people  believe 
that  he  and  his  companions  went  fast  asleep 
in  a  cave  for  a  great  many  hundred  years,  and 
Bome  day  they  would  wake  up  and  rule  over 
them." 

"  And  who  was  the  Winkle  man  ? "  asked 
Belle. 

"  He  was  another  old  fellow  who  went  up 
into  the  mountains  and  went  to  sleep  for  ever 
so  many  years ;  and  when  he  woke  up  nobody 
knew  him,  and  he  did  not  know  anybody, 
Harry  told  us  about  him.  I  don't  see  how 
people  can  be  so  foolish  as  to  sleep  for  so 
long ;  but  it  came  into  my  head  to  make  our 
dolls  Rip  Yan  Winkles  and  William  Tells  till 
we  came  back,  and  then  we  wouldn't  feel  as 
if  they  were  so  lonely  when  they  were  asleep 
all  the  time." 

"  It's  only  pretend,  you  know,  and  one  can 
make  b'lieve  about  dolls  even  better  than  about 
people,"  said  Bessie.  "  And  it's  a  great  relief 
to  suffering  to  go  to  sleep  and  forget  it,"  she 


Packing  Uf.  23 

added,  as  gravely  as  though  there  were  no 
"pretend"  about  it,  and  the  dolls  were  real 
children,  feeling  deeply  the  separation  from 
their  little  mammas. 

"  That's  a  very  nice  thing  to  do.  You  do 
make  such  nice  plays,  Maggie,"  said  Lily,  ad- 
miringly. "  I  shall  do  it  with  my  dolls :  you'd 
better  too,  Belle." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know ;  but  I'm  going  to  think 
about  it,"  said  Belle,  in  whose  little  heart 
Maggie's  reproach  had  awakened  a  feeling  of 
remorse  for  the  selfishness  and  obstinacy  she 
had  shown  about  her  doll.  "  I  b'lieve  Belle 
Maggie  Bessie  is  most  too  large.  I  can't 
carry  her  much  myself,  and  papa  did  say  she'd 
be  in  everybody's  way.  I  guess  I'll  make  a 
William  Tell  of  her,  if  Maggie  and  Bessie 
will  let  me  put  her  with  theirs." 

"  Yes,  we  will ;  and  you  can  take  a  doll  of 
moderation,"  said  Maggie,  meaning  that  Belle 
could  take  a  doll  of  moderate  size. 

"  Do  you  think  you'll  be  seasick  ou  the 
steamer  ?  "  asked  Lily. 


/ 

24  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 


"  Pooh  I  no,  I  shan't.  I  won't  be,''  said 
Maggie. 

"' "  Perhaps  you  can't  help  it,"  said  Belle. 
*'  I'm  sure  I  didn't  mean  to  be  seasick  when 
I  came  here  in  the  steamer,  but  I  couldn't  help 
it ;  and  oh  dear  !  —  it's  —  it  is  horrid." 

"  Is  being  seasick  any  thing  like  being 
homesick  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  Not  exactly  ;  but  the  two  things  very  often 
go  together,  darling,"  said  Aunt  Bessie,  laugh- 
ing, and  speaking  from  the  next  room. 

"  Then  I'm  more  rjntrrnaiafd  than  ever  not 
to  be  it,"  said  Maggie,  meaning  seasick, by 
"  it."  "  But  then  I  couldn't  be  homesick 
either,  when  I  have  so  many  of  my  own  home 
people  with  me." 

But,  in  spite  of  her  determination,  Maggie 
had  privately  a  great  dread  of  this  same  sea- 
sickness. She  could  not  bear  to  be  sick  ;  not 
that  she  was  impatient  or  cross  when  this  was 
the  case  with  her,  but  that  she  thought  sick- 
ness, like  sleep,  was  "  a  great  waste  of  being 
alive."     She  wanted  to  be  able  to  run  about 


Packing  Up,  25 

and  amuse  herself  all  the  time ;  and  it  was 
"  such  fun  "  to  go  to  sea,  that  she  was  very 
much  afraid  lest  any  thing  should  interfere 
with  her  enjoyment  of  it.     n 

"  They  give  people  sour  things  when  they 
are  seasick,"  said  Belle,  who,  having  once  suf- 
fered in  this  way,  thought  herself  entitled  to 
give  all  necessary  information  on  the  subject. 
"  That's  the  only  nice  thing  about  it.  They 
gave  me  lots  of  sour  oranges  and  lemons." 

"  But  Bessie  and  I  don't  like  sour  things, 
so  that  won't  make  it  any  better  for  us,"  said 
Maggie,  soberly.  Nevertheless,  she  treasured 
Belle's  remark  ;  and  not  seeing  her  way  clear- 
ly to  a  private  stock  of  oranges  and  lemons, 
she  watched  her  opportunity  when  her  little 
playmates  were  gone,  and  taking  Patrick  into 
her  confidence,  begged  him  to  give  her  "  two 
pickles  and  a  whole  lot  of  vinegar,"  not  to  eat 
herself,  because  mamma  would  not  allow  that, 
but  to  be  prepared,  when  all  the  rest  of  the 
family  were  seasick  and  she  had  to  take  care 
of  them. 


26  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

The  good-natured  Irishman,  expressing 
great  admiration  at  the  "  forethought  of  her," 
furnished  her  with  what  she  wanted;  and 
Maggie  went  off,  rejoicing  in  her  spoils. 

The  pickles  were  stowed  away  in  the  soup- 
tureen  belonging  to  her  doll's  dinner-set ;  and 
she  contrived,  when  nurse  and  Jane  were  not 
looking,  to  slip  them  into  a  corner  of  one  of 
the  trunks.  The  vinegar  she  poured  into  a 
vial  she  had  also  obtained  from  Patrick  ;  and 
as  the  cork  did  not  fit  very  tightly,  and  she 
feared  the  liquid  might  run  out  if  she  put  it 
into  the  trunk,  she  hid  it  in  her  bosom,  hero- 
ically enduring  the  smell  of  the  vinegar,  which 
was  exceedingly  disagreeable  to  her,  "  for  the 
sake  of  my  family,"  as  she  told  Bessie. 

For  Bessie's  quick  little  nose  soon  smelt  out 
the  vinegar,  which  she  also  disliked  very 
much ;  and  after  several  sniffs  and  exclama- 
tions of  disgust  from  her,  and  much  wonder- 
ing as  to  where  that  ''  horrid,  vintegarish 
smell  did  come  from,"  Maggie  felt  forced  to 
tell   her  the  secret  which  she  had  meant  to 


Packing  Up.  27 

keep  until  tliey  were  safely  on  board  the 
steamer. 

But  Bessie  was  by  no  means  so  struck  with 
admiration  as  Patrick  had  been,  and  for  once 
did  not  think  Maggie's  plan  a  good  one  ;  at 
least  not  unless  she  could  be  persuaded  to  tell 
her  mamma  of  it. 

"  For  you  know,  dear  Maggie,"  she  said 
with  a  doubtful  shake  of  her  head,  "  mamma 
does  not  like  us  to  keep  secrets  from  her ;  and 
don't  you  think  she  will  know  what  is  best  to 
take  ? " 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Maggie,  un- 
willing to  give  up  her  cherished  plan ;  "  may- 
be she  won't  think  about  sour  things,  and  I'm 
sure  she'd  be  very  thankful  when  she's  sea- 
sick, and  finds  an  unexpected  pickle  just  on 
hand." 

"  I  think  she'll  like  it  just  as  well  if  she 
knows  about  it  before,"  said  Bessie.  "  And  I 
don't  believe  it  is  quite  right ;  and,  besides,  it 
is  such  a  very  bad-smelling  secret  to  have. 
Tell  her,  and  see  what  she  will  say." 


28  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

But  even  as  they  were  talking,  tliey  found 
tbat  the  "  bad-smellmg  secret"  had  betrayed 
itself ;  for  nurse,  going  to  finish  the  packing  of 
the  trunk  where  the  pickles  were  concealed, 
also  perceived  the  scent  of  vinegar. 

"  What  have  you  been  putting  in  here  that 
smells  so  of  vinegar  ? "  she  said  to  Jane. 

"  Nothing,"  was  the  answer.  "  I've  had  no 
vinegar." 

"  But  it's  here,  surely,"  said  nurse,  sniffing 
around  in  her  turn :  "  it's  about  this  trunk, 
spilled  on  something  I  suppose  :  that's  some  of 
your  carelessness,  Jane."  And  Mammy,  who 
was  rather  apt  to  snub  her  younger  helpmate, 
lifted  several  articles  in  turn  to  her  nose. 

"  Oh  dear  !  I'll  have  to  tell :  she's  scolding 
poor  Janey  for  it,"  whispered  Maggie,  in  great 
dismay. 

"  What's  this  ?  "  exclaimed  nurse,  when, 
having  pulled  out  half  a  dozen  things,  she 
came  upon  the  tiny  tureen.  "  Pickles  !  and  the 
vinegar  dribbled  out  of  them  on  the  master's 
clean  shirts.     Well !    that  naughty  Frankie ! 


Packing  Up,  2^ 

he's  gone  beyond  himself  in  such  a  trick  as 
that.  He's  been  busy  with  your  doll's  china, 
Maggie,  my  honey ;  but  where  in  the  world 
did  he  lay  his  mischievous  hands  on  pickles  ? 
I'll  just  speak  my  mind  to  Patrick  for  leaving 
them  in  the  child's  reach.  Pickles  indeed  ! 
but  he's  a  pickle  ! " 

This  was  too  much  for  Maggie.  She  could 
not  hear  her  little  brother  and  Patrick  blamed, 
and  she  spoke  out  at  once. 

"  It  was  not  Frankie  who  put  them  there," 
she  said :  "it  was  I,  and  I  want  them  to  stay 
there." 

"  Indeed,  they'll  not  then,"  said  nurse. 
"  Ye  know  your  mother  never  lets  ye  touch 
them  ;  and  what  a  way  would  that  be  to  take 
them  anyhow  ?  What  ails  ye  the  day,  Mag- 
gie ?  I  think  the  spirit  of  mischief  has  hold 
of  ye." 

Maggie  was  displeased  in  her  turn,  and,  as 
usual,  was  dignified  and  made  use  of  all  the 
long  words  she  could  think  of,  which  were 
suitable  to  the  case. 


30  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

"  If  you  interfere  with  my  pickle  arrange- 
ments, I  shall  not  be  responsible  for  the  sea- 
sickness," she  said  solemnly. 

"  Responsible  for  the  seasickness !  I  should 
think  not,"  said  nurse,  forgetting  her  vexation 
in  her  amusement,  and  bursting  into  a  hearty 
laugh,  in  which  she  was  joined  by  Jane ;  while 
Maggie  stood  swelling  and  indignant ;  "  re- 
sponsible for  the  seasickness !  and  what  put 
that  into  your  head,  my  lamb,  and  what  do 
you  think  pickles  stuffed  into  trunks  have  to 
do  with  it  ?  " 

But  Maggie  was  too  much  hurt  and  dis- 
appointed to  answer,  and  could  only  reply 
■s\dth  a  nod  to  Bessie's  plea  that  she  would  let 
her  explain. 

This  was  soon  done  ;  and  nurse,  sorry  to  see 
Maggie  so  grieved,  said, — 

"  The  pickles  would  have  done  ye  little  good 
packed  away  in  the  trunk  which  ye  will  not 
see  till  we  come  to  land  again,  honey;  and 
don't  ye  fret  your  little  soul  about  it,  for  your 
mamma  has  provided  all  things  needful ;  and  I 


Packing  Uf.  31 

promise  you  if  all  the  rest  are  taken  down  bul 
yourself,  ye  shall  play  nurse  to  your  heart's 
content,  and  wait  on  everybody.  Ye  did 
mean  to  be  considerate  and  thoughtful,  I'm 
sure ;  but  it's  always  best  for  such  young 
heads  to  take  counsel  of  those  that  are  wiser 
and  older  in  such  things." 

Having  allowed  so  much  to  be  confessed, 
Maggie  thought  she  might  as  well  make  a 
clean  breast  of  the  whole  affair ;  and  pro- 
duced the  bottle  of  vinegar,  with  many  en- 
treaties to  be  allowed  to  keep  it.  Nurse 
shook  her  head ;  but  Mrs.  Bradford  came  into 
the  room  just  then,  and  she  turned  the  mat- 
ter over  to  her. 

Mamma  laughed  too  when  she  heard  the 
story,  and  told  Maggie  to  give  up  her  pickles 
and  vinegar,  and  she  would  provide  her  with 
something  better  ;  so  taking  both  the  little 
girls  into  her  own  room,  she  delighted  them 
by  presenting  each  with  a  beautiful  morocco 
satchel,  just  of  a  right  size  for  small  travel- 
lers, and  with  lock  and  key  all  complete,  to 


32  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

say  nothing  of  a  light  chain  by  which  they 
could  be  hung  over  the  shoulder. 

Maggie  was  farther  consoled  by  a  bottle  of 
smelling  salts,  one  of  hartshorn,  and  three 
lemons ;  and  this  she  appeared  to  think  a 
sufficient  safeguard  against  seasickness  for 
all  the  passengers  and  crew  of  the  steamer. 
For  the  rest  of  the  day  her  restless  energies 
found  satisfaction  in  locking  and  unlocking, 
arranging  and  rearranging  this  satchel  and 
its  contents,  and  the  busy  head  and  fingers 
were  kept  from  farther  mischief  or  hindering 
"help." 


11. 

AT    SEA. 

RE  we  at  sea  now,  papa  ?  "  said  Mag- 
gie, holding  by  her  father's  hand  as 
she  jumped  up  and  down  on  the 
deck  of  the  steamer ;  "  are  we  really  at  sea  ?  " 

"  Hardly  at  sea  yet,  little  daughter :  we  are 
still  going  down  the  bay.  When  we  are  fairly 
at  sea  we  shall  lose  sight  of  our  own  great 
city,  where  we  have  left  grandmamma  and 
the  boys,  and  all  the  other  dear  ones.'' 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  who  was  by  no  means 
in  such  overflowing  spirits  as  Maggie ;  "  it's 
rather  sorrowful  to  leave  so  many  of  our  own 
people  behind  us.  I  wish  everybody  could 
have  cgme  with  us." 

"  Then  we'd  have  no  one  to  write  to,"  said 
Maggie,  who  found  consolation  in  all  partings 


34  Bessie  on  her   Travels, 

in  the  thought  of  letter-writing,  in  which  she 
delighted. 

"  But,  papa,  will  you  tell  us  when  we  are 
really  and  truly  at  sea  ?  " 

"  You'll  be  apt  to  know  that  without  telling, 
little  maiden,"  said  a  gentleman  who  was 
passing :  "  we  have  had  high  winds  the  last 
three  days,  and  shall  find  it  rough  enough  out- 
side, I  take  it ;  "  and  he  passed  on. 

"  Who's  that,  papa  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  That  is  the  captain,"  said  Mr.  Bradford. 

"  Wliat  a  nice  face  he  has,"  said  the  little 
girl. 

"  What  did  he  mean  by  *  outside '  ?  "  asked 
Maggie. 

"  He  meant  outside  of  the  bay  or  harbor. 
We  are  going  now  through  what  is  called 
the  Narrows,  then  we  shall  pass  Sandy  Hook, 
where  the  light-house  is,  and  be  fairly  out  at 
sea." 

9 

"  And  what  did  he  mean  by  '  rough '  ? " 
asked  Maggie. 

"  Well,  he  meant  the  waves  might  be  ratlier 


At  Sea,  35 

high,  and  toss  and  roll  the  ship  about  more 
than  you  would  find  quite  comfortable." 

"  Oil !  I  shan't  mind  it,"  said  Maggie.  "  It 
will  be  fun." 

"  He  meant  you'd  be  seasick,"  said  Belle, 
with  a  wise  shake  of  her  head. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  ever  meant  that,"  an- 
swered Maggie,  in  a  tone  which  said  she  con- 
sidered the  idea  almost  an  insult.  "  He  must 
see  how  well  and  strong  I  look." 

"  I  hope  you  may  be  able  to  keep  to  youi 
determination,  my  little  girl,"  said  her  father, 
smihng. 

"  Why,  is  this  what  people  make  such  a  fuss 
about?"  said  Maggie,  when  some  time  after 
the  threatened  rolling  and  pitching  began  :  "  I 
think  it  is  lovely.  But,  then,  papa,"  she 
added  presently,  "  perhaps  it  would  be  nicer 
if  you  would  ask  that  good-natured-looking 
captain  not  to  let  the  ship  do  it  quite  so  much. 
It  seems  to  make  my  head  so  very  bobbly.^^ 

"  The  captain  cannot  help  it,  dear,"  said 
her  father,  looking  half  in  pity,  half  in  amuse- 


36  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

inent,  at  the  face  which  Maggie  was  making 
such  desperate  efforts  to  keep  smirmg  and  un- 
concerned. "The  waves  roll  the  vessel  about 
in  this  way,  and  you  know  the  captain  does 
not  rule  them.  We  must  bear  it  as  we  can ; 
but  I  hope  by  and  by  you  will  become  used  to 
it,  and  not  mind  it  so  much." 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  mind  it,  papa,"  said  Maggie, 
still  determined  that  these  rolling  waves 
should  not  conquer  her ;  "  at  least  not  so  very 
much,  and  I'm  not  a  bit  seasick  ;  only  —  only 
—  I  don't  think  the  sea  is  quite  so  very  com- 
fortable to  be  on  as  the  land  :  do  you  ?  " 

Hapless  little  Maggie  !  Half  an  hour  more, 
and  the  "  bobbly  "  head  lay  in  mamma's  lap, 
hands  and  feet  hung  helplessly,  chattering 
tongue  was  still,  save  for  an  occasional  pite- 
ous, "  0  mamma ! "  and  the  merry  dancing 
eyes,  usually  so  wide-open  and  quick  to  notice 
all  around  them,  were  closed  as  though  they 
never  cared  to  lift  their  lids  again.  Even  the 
new  satchel  had  lost  its  charm,  and  hung  un- 
lieeded   at  her  side.     Its  cherished  contents, 


At  Sea.  37 

which  she  had  intended  to  be  of  so  much  use 
to  others,  proved  of  none  to  herself.  Lemons, 
smelling  salts,  hartshorn,  and  many  other 
remedies,  were  tried  without  success  ;  and  it 
would  have  been  hard  to  find  a  more  wretched 
little  girl  than  was  poor  Maggie,  for  the  next 
twenty-four  hours.  Belle  and  Lily  were  too 
ill  themselves  to  feel  at  all  inclined  to  triumph 
over  the  failure  of  Maggie's  "determination;" 
though  I  do  not  think  they  would  have  been 
unkind  enough  to  do  so,  had  they  been  ever 
so  well. 

As  for  Bessie,  she  made  what  the  captain 
called  "  a  capital  little  sailor,"  and  to  her  fell 
the  part  of  nurse,  which  Maggie  had  intended 
to  fill.  And  never  was  a  more  gentle,  tender, 
tlioughtful  young  nurse  than  our  little  "  prin- 
cess," handy  and  knowing  enough  for  seven- 
and-twenty  instead  of  seven  years  old.  Now 
she  was  rubbing  Maggie's  cold  hands,  now 
bathing  Belle's  dizzy,  aching  head  with  such 
soothing  fingers  ;  now  coaxing  Lily  to  take 
one  of  those  oranges  which  were  to  work  such 


38  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

wonders  ;  now  amusing  baby,  for  Mammy  was 
in  a  bad  way  too,  and  mamma's  attention  was 
pretty  well  taken  up  with  her  poor  Maggie  ; 
now  showing  a  picture-book  to  some  fretful 
child  whose  mother  was  too  ill  to  attend  to  it. 
Always  ready  not  only  to  do,  but  to  see  where 
and  how  she  could  do,  some  small  service  for  a 
sufferer,  she  went  about  from  one  to  another 
like  some  dainty  little  fairy,  with  a  mission  of 
healing  and  kindness.  So  long  as  she  could 
keep  her  feet,  which  was  not  always  possible, 
the  rolling  of  the  ship  only  troubled  her  by 
the  distress  it  brought  to  others,  especially 
Maggie  ;  but  all  her  pleasure  in  her  beloved 
sea  was  lost  in  her  sympathy  for  her  sister. 
It  was  so  strange  and  unusual  to  see  Maggie 
lying  helpless  and  subdued,  with  no  thought 
or  care  for  any  thing  about  her,  that  it  made 
Bessie  herself  very  miserable ;  and  she  could 
scarcely  believe  her  father's  assurances  that 
Maggie  was  not  going  to  die,  and  would  prob- 
ably soon  feel  better. 

But  she  thought  despair  and  misery  could 


Al  Sea.  39 

^i^o  ho  farther  upon  the  following  morning, 
when,  having  dressed  Margaret  Bessie  Ma- 
rion and  Margaret  Colonel  Horace  Rush  in 
the  new  travelling  suits  Aunt  Annie  had  made 
for  them,  and  combed  their  "  real  live  hair," 
she  brought  them  and  placed  one  on  each  side 
of  Maggie,  as  she  lay  among  the  pile  of  pil- 
lows and  shawls  papa  had  arranged  for  her 
upon  the  deck. 

"  Maggie  dear,"  she  said  coaxingly,  "  would 
it  not  comfort  you  a  little  to  hold  Bessie 
Margaret  Marion  ?     She  looks  so  sweet." 

"  No,"  moaned  Maggie,  without  opening  her 
eyes :  "  I  never  want  her  again,  Bessie,  never. 
You  can  have  her." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Bessie,  cheerily  :  "  you'll 
want  her  when  you  feel  better,  and  I  hope  that 
will  be  pretty  soon." 

"  No,"  said  Maggie  again :  "  I'll  never  be 
better.  And,  Bessie,  I  think  I'd  better  tell 
you  my  will.  I'm  too  sick  to  write  it  myself, 
but  you  can  remember." 

"  But  you're  not  going  to  die,"  answered 


40  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Bessie,  dropping  the  doll  upon  her  lap  and 
looking  at  Maggie  in  fresh  dismay. 

"  Yes,  I  feel  it,"  said  Maggie,  with  a  tragic 
whisper  and  shake  of  her  head. 

"  Oh,  no,  dear !  Papa  said  not,  and  the 
doctor  said  so  too.  They  said  people  hardly 
ever  died  of  seasickness." 

"  Then  I'm  one  of  the  '  hardly  evers,'  Bes- 
sie," persisted  Maggie,  seeming,  poor  child,  to 
find  some  relief  in  the  idea ;  "  and  I'd  better 
make  my  will,  and  tell  you  who  I  want  my  play- 
things and  other  possessings  to  go  to." 

Bessie  did  not  know  whether  to  be  most 
alarmed  at  Maggie's  words,  or  consoled  by  her 
belief  that  her  father  and  the  doctor  must 
know  best ;  and  she  listened  in  silence  while 
Maggie  went  on,  speaking  slowly  and  with 
many  pauses. 

"  You  can  have  all  my  dolls,  Bessie,  'cept 
Josephine  Matilda,  and  she'll  be  good  for 
Baby,  'cause  she's  Indian  rubber  and  can't  be 
broken ;  and  mamma  my  prize  writing-desk, 
and  papa  my  new  satchel ;  and  my  doll's  tea 


Al  Sea.  41 

set,  the  white  and  gilt  one  for  you,  and  the 
blue  one  for  Lily ;  same  with  the  dinner-sets 
—  only,  red  for  Belle  —  and  my  tin  kitchen 
too  —  oh  !  I  can't  tell  any  more  —  oh  !  mam- 
ma—  mamma  T'  and  here  poor  Maggie's  will 
came  abruptly  to  an  end. 

But  things  brightened  towards  the  latter 
part  of  that  day,  for  they  came  into  smoother 
waters ;  and  Maggie,  as  well  as  all  the  other 
seasick  passengers,  began  to  feel  easier. 

"  Hallo !  "  said  the  captain,  pausing  as  he 
came  by  to  look  at  the  little,  pale,  tired  face 
upon  the  pillows  :  "  is  this  the  jolly  little  wo- 
man who  came  on  board  yesterday  afternoon  ? 
Why,  this  will  not  do.  I  shall  have  to  take 
her  in  hand  myself,  Mrs.  Bradford :  will  you 
let  me  turn  doctor  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly.  Captain,  if  you  can  do 
any  thing  to  relieve  her.  Every  thing  seems 
to  fail  except  time  and  patience,  and  of  the 
last  my  poor  child  has  shown  a  fair  sample," 
answered  the  anxious  mother. 

With  a  nod  to  Maggie,  who,  at  the  sound 


42  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

of  his  hearty,  cheery  voice  had  half  opened 
her  eyes  to  look  at  him,  and  another  to  Bessie, 
who  sat  upon  the  edge  of  her  sister's  couch, 
he  walked  away ;  coming  back  after  a  little 
while,  followed  by  the  steward  carrying  a  small 
tray.  On  the  tray  were  two  plates,  the  one 
holding  a  crisp  slice  of  brown  toast ;  the  other, 
something  which  Bessie  thought  very  uninvit- 
ing, a  dry,  rather  black-looking  herring. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  is  going  to  ask  Maggie  to 
eat  that  thing,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Idea  of 
it !  I  know  she  never  can  do  it.  I'm  afraid 
he's  not  so  very  nice  as  he  looks,  and  that  he 
has  very  poor  sense." 

But  the  captain  asked  Maggie  nothing  about 
the  herring ;  but,  sitting  down  beside  her,  he 
took  the  tray  from  the  steward,  and  cutting 
a  small  bit  from  the  fish,  he  held  it  to  Maggie's 
lips.  Maggie  turned  away  her  head  in  disgust, 
in  which  Bessie  sympathized. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  captain,  "  every 
one  has  to  do  as  I  say  on  this  ship,  especially 
when  I  turn  doctor." 


Ai  Sea.  43 

He  did  not  smile,  though  he  looked  as  good- 
matured  and  pleasant  as  ever  ;  and,  doubtful  if 
he  were  in  joke  or  in  earnest,  Maggie  reluc- 
tantly took  the  bit  of  fish  from  the  fork,  and 
then  a  mouthful  of  the  toast,  which  she  swal- 
lowed with  the  same  martyr-like  air.  Another 
and  another  followed,  taken  with  less  and  less 
reluctance  ;  till  at  last  Bessie  was  surprised 
to  see  Maggie's  eyes  remain  open,  and  fix 
themselves  rather  longingly  upon  the  plate,  as 
if  she  wished  the  captain  would  make  the  in- 
tervals shorter.  He  took  no  notice,  however, 
but  fed  her  slowly,  till  fish  and  toast  had  both 
entirely  disappeared,  when  he  said,  — 

"  I  think  we  shall  do  now.  I'll  be  back 
in  half  an  hour,  Mrs.  Bradford,  to  see  how  my 
patient  here  is  getting  on,"  and  walked  away. 

"  Maggie,"  said  Bessie,  as  soon  as  he  had 
gone,  "  wasn't  that  meal  very  nas  — ,  I  mean 
rather  disagreeable  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Maggie,  "  it  was  delicious  ; 
find  I  think  that  captain  is  lovely,  Bessie.  He's 
^he  best  doctor  ever  I  saw.     The  next  time  I 


44  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

come  to  sea  —  which  I  hope  I  never  will  again 
—  I'll  put  herring  in  my  satchel  'stead  of 
lemons.     They  never  did  me  a  bit  of  good." 

Bessie  privately  thought  this  worse  than 
tlie  "  pickle  arrangement ; "  but  since  the  cap- 
tain's prescription  had  done  Maggie  so  much 
good,  she  had  nothing  more  to  say  against  it 
or  him ;  and  when  he  came  back  at  the  prom- 
ised time  it  was  to  find  his  little  patient  begin- 
ning to  look  like  herself,  and  talking  and 
smiling  with  something  of  her  accustomed 
brightness. 

This  was  the  last  of  Maggie's  seasickness, 
and  by  the  next  morning  she  was  nearly  as 
lively  and  well  as  usual ;  though  she  now  and 
then  fell  into  a  fit  of  thought,  as  if  she  were 
considering  some  knotty  question ;  and  she 
was  observed  to  regard  Margaret  Bessie 
Marion  with  more  than  usual  interest,  and 
to  give  her  a  great  amount  of  petting  and 
tending.  At  length  the  question  which  was 
weighing  on  her  mind  found  words. 

"  Papa,"  she  said,  "  don't  lawyers  know 
about  wills  ? " 


A^  Sea,  45 

"  They  ought  to,  Maggie,"  answered  Mr. 
Bradford.  "  Why,  you  dou't  want  to  make 
yours,  do  you  ?  " 

''  I  have  made  it,  papa,"  said  Maggie,  with 
all  the  gravity  of  a  judge.  "  I  told  Bessie 
about  it,  but  I  want  to  know  if  it's  against 
the  law  to  undo  the  things  you've  willed,  if 
you  don't  die  when  you  thought  you  were 
going  to." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  papa,  laughing :  "  you 
may  make  your  will,  and  '  undo  it '  as  often 
as  you  please,  while  you  are  living." 

"  For  the  people  won't  be  disappointed  as 
long  as  they  don't  know  you've  willed  them 
the  things,"  said  Maggie,  meditatively.  "Any- 
how, I  s'pose  my  people  would  be  more  dis- 
appointed to  have  me  die,  than  not  to  have 
my  things." 

"  They  would  indeed,  little  daughter,"  said 
her  father,  drawing  her  tenderly  to  him : 
"  to  lose  our  Maggie  would  be  to  take  a  great 
deal  of  sunshine  out  of  the  lives  of  '  yowl 
people.'  " 


46  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

"  And  I  know  Bessie  don't  care  for  my 
dollies  so  long  as  we  can  play  with  them 
together :  do  you,  Bessie  ?  " 

"  Oh.  no  !  Maggie ;  and  if  I  hadn't  you,  I 
should  never  play  again,  but  be  sorrowful  all 
my  life ; "  and  Bessie  put  on  an  air  of  extreme 
melancholy  at  the  bare  idea  of  such  a  possi- 
bility. 

So  this  matter  being  settled  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  all,  and  Maggie  feeling  like  her  own 
self  once  more,  she  and  Bessie  were  free  to 
enjoy  all  the  new  pleasures  about  them. 

They  were  a  merry,  happy  party,  those  four 
httle  girls,  Maggie,  Bessie,  Belle,  and  Lily ; 
always  pleasant  and  good-natured  with  one 
another ;  never  fretting  or  quarrelling  in  their 
play.  As  for  Maggie,  her  new  friend  the 
captain  used  to  call  her  "  Little  Make-the-best- 
of-it ; "  for  her  sunny  temper  found  so  much 
good  m  all  things,  and  so  many  reasons  why 
all  that  was,  was  best. 

He  escorted  the  young  quartette  all  over  the 
steamer,  taking  them  down  into  the  machine 


A^  Sea.  47 

rooms,  where  they  saw  the  great  furnaces 
glowing  with  hot  coals,  and  tended  by  strong 
men  in  scarlet  shirts,  with  their  sleeves  rolled 
up  to  the  shoulders ;  where  the  iron  beam  and 
pistons  went  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  with- 
out a  moment's  pause  or  irregularity ;  where 
each  little  wheel  and  joint  went  steadily  on 
doing  its  appointed  work,  without  which  the 
huge  machinery  must  have  stood  motionless 
and  useless. 

The  sympathies  of  the  children,  especially 
those  of  Maggie,  were  greatly  excited  in  behalf 
of  a  man  whom  they  saw  watching  the  steam 
dial  plates  at  the  upper  end  of  the  engine 
room.  There  were  three  of  these  plates,  the 
centre  one  very  large,  the  other  two  smaller  ; 
and  the  man  paced  up  and  down  the  narrow 
platform  in  front,  almost  without  a  moment's 
pause,  turning  his  eyes  every  now  and  then  to 
Ihe  dials. 

"  What  funny  clocks,"  said  Bessie,  "  and 
how  that  man  watches  them  !  Why  is  he  so 
anxious  about  the  time  ?  " 


48  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  Only  one  of  them  is  a  clock,''  said  the 
captain  ;  "  the  others  are  to  show  how  much 
steam  we  have  on,  and  how  it  is  working,  and 
if  all  is  right." 

Bessie  did  not  understand,  and  said  so ;  and 
the  captain,  taking  her  up  in  his  arms,  tried  to 
explain  the  use  and  working  of  the  dials  to  the 
little  girls ;  but  it  was  rather  a  difficult  matter 
for  them  to  take  in,  and  I  do  not  know  that  he 
made  it  very  clear  to  them. 

"  But  I  want  to  know  about  that  man,"  said 
Maggie  :  "  does  he  have  to  walk  here  and  look 
at  these  things  all  the  time  ?  '*' 

"  All  the  time,"  said  Captain  Brooks. 

"  Doesn't  he  eat  and  sleep  ?  "  asked  Belle. 

"  Oh  !  to  be  sure,"  said  the  captain.  "  I 
said  he  was  here  all  the  time  ;  but  I  should 
have  said  a  man  was  here  all  the  time ;  for 
there  is  another  who  takes  his  turn  while  this 
one  rests." 

"  But  are  you  not  tired  sometimes  ?  "  Bessie 
asked  of  the  man,  who  just  then  came  to  the 
end  of  the  platform  where  she  was. 


At  Sea.  49 

He  nodded  assent  as  he  turned,  but  made 
no  answer  in  words,  did  not  even  smile,  being 
a  grum-looking  man,  and  seeming  altogether 
intent  on  his  dials. 

"He's  not  very  polite  just  to  nod  at  you 
and  not  speak,"  said  Lily. 

''It  is  against  the  rule  of  the  ship  for  liim 
to  talk  while  he  is  on  duty,  and  he  always 
keeps  the  rule,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Maggie,  her  pity  more  than 
ever  roused  for  the  object  of  her  interest : 
''  does  he  have  to  walk  on  this  little  bit  of  a 
place  with  nothing  to  amuse  him,  and  can't 
even  talk  ?  I  think  that  is  pretty  hard :  /never 
could  do  it." 

''  But  if  he  were  talking  and  chatting  with 
every  one  who  came  along,  and  thinking  only 
of  his  own  amusement,  he  would  forget  his 
work  and  have  his  attention  taken  off  from 
those  plates  which  it  is  his  business  to  watch 
constantly,"  said  the  captain. 

*'  And  then  we'd  be  blown  up  or  burnt  up 
or  drowned  or  something,"  said  Maggie. 

4 


50  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

"  Not  as  bad  as  that,  I  hope,"  said  Captain 
Urooks,  smiling ;  "  but  something  might 
readily  go  wrong  before  he  perceived  it." 

"  It  seems  like  watching  conscience  all  the 
time  for  fear  we  do  something  naughty,"  said 
Bessie,  who  had  been  thoughtfully  regarding 
the  man  since  she  last  spoke.  "If  we  forget 
conscience,  or  don't  pay  attention  where  it 
points,  we  can  be  naughty  before  we  know 
it." 

"  Just  so,"  said  the  captain,  looking  at  her 
half  in  amusement,  half  in  surprise  ;  "  but  tell 
me,  little  one,  do  you  find  some  moral  lesson 
in  every  thing?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what '  moral '  is,  sir,"  said 
Bessie,  demurely ;  "  but  I  think  that  man  is  a 
pretty  good  lesson  to  us." 

Here  roguish  Lily,  for  whom  the  prospect  of 
being  "  blown  up  or  burnt  up  or  drowned  or 
something,"  did  not  seem  to  have  any  terrors, 
and  who  had  been  all  this  time  trying  to  dis- 
tract the  watchman's  attention  by  shaking  her 
head  and  finger  at  him,  flu'ting  her  pocket- 


A^  Sea.  51 

handkerchief,  and  giving  little  squeaks  and 
"  hems,"  all  without  any  avail,  suddenly  as- 
tonished him  and  accomplished  her  object,  by 
firing  a  paper  pellet  which  hit  him  directly 
between  the  eyes.  The  gruff  old  fellow  only 
gave  her  a  growl  in  return,  however,  and  re- 
commenced his  pacing  up  and  down  ;  but  Lily 
went  capering  about  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight  at 
her  unlooked-for  success,  till  the  captain,  who 
could  not  help  laughing,  called  her  to  order 
with,  — 

"  Here,  here,  you  elf!  have  done  with  your 
monkey  tricks,  or  I  shall  shut  you  up  in  a  cage 
till  we  get  to  shore." 

"  You've  none  large  enough,"  said  laughing 

Lily. 

"  There  are  plenty  of  hencoops  on  board," 
said  the  captain,  pretending  to  look  fierce, 
"  and  carpenters  too,  to  make  any  sized  cage  I 
may  order.     You  had  better  look  out." 

"  I  don't  think  it's  fair  to  tease  the  poor 
man,"  said  Bessie,  "  he  has  to  be  so  stupid  all 
the  time,  and  he  is  so  dutiful  too.     Let's  go 


52  Bessie  on  he7'  Travels, 

away,  Captain  Brooks,  and  not  let  him  be 
teased  any  more." 

So  the  captain  took  them  away  in  search  of 
other  novelties  ;  but  Maggie  and  Bessie  did 
not  forget  "  the  poor,  stupid  man,"  as  the  lat- 
ter called  him,  meaning  only  that  she  thought 
he  passed  his  time  in  such  a  dull,  uninterest- 
ing manner  ;  and  they  set  their  young  wits  to 
work  to  see  if  they  could  not  do  him  some 
kindness. 

"  I  don't  see  the  good  of  it,"  said  Lily. 
*'  The  captain  said  he  was  a  surly  old  fellow, 
any  way,  and  didn't  care  to  talk  much  when 
he  could.  I  guess  we'd  better  just  let  him 
alone." 

''  We  oughtn't  to  judge  by  appearances," 
said  Maggie,  gravely.  "  Bessie  and  I  have 
learned  that." 

"  But  not  till  we'd  performed  some  pretty 
bad  mistakes,"  said  Bessie  :  "  so  take  a  lesson 
of  us." 

"  Tell  us  about  them,"  said  Belle  ;  and  ac- 
cordingly Belle  and  Lily  were  much  interested 


At  Sea. 


51 


ill  hearing  of  Lem  and  the  silver  cup,  and  of 
Aunt  Patty ;  Maggie  also  confessing  how  she 
had  for  a  long  time  misjudged  Mrs.  Jones,  of 
Quam  Beach,  because  she  had  a  disagreeable 
manner. 


ni. 

LUCY. 

LD  ocean  seemed  to  wish  to  make 
amends,  during  the  last  two  days  of 
the  short  voyage,  for  the  tossing  and 
rolling  he  had  given  our  friends  during  the 
first.  It  was  as  smooth  as  a  river  almost, 
and  broke  itself  up  into  little  wavelets  which 
seemed  formed  only  to  sparkle  -and  catch  the 
sunshine.  The  weather  was  warm  and  sum 
mer-like,  growing  more  and  more  so  the  far- 
ther south  they  went ;  and  the  children  spent 
the  whole  of  their  time  on  deck,  even  taking 
their  meals  there :  for  though  Maggie  declared 
herself  "  all  right  now,"  she  could  not  eat 
when  taken  below,  and  it  was  "  such  fun  "  to 
have  breakfast,  dinner,  and  tea,  sent  up  to 
them  and  eaten  on  deck  in  such   impromptu 


Lucy.  55 

fashion,  that  the  others  were  only  too  glad  ot 
the  excuse  of  bearing  her  company.  Mamma 
and  Mrs.  Norris  preferred  it  too ;  so  they  had 
quite  a  sociable,  cosey  time  of  it. 

As  for  Bessie,  she  wanted  "  no  better  con- 
tentment "  than  to  sit  watching  the  sea.  The 
sky ;  the  waves ;  the  white  sea-gulls,  which  now 
and  then  came  sailing  round  on  their  snowy 
wings ;  the  other  vessels  they  saw  in  the  *  far 
distance,  or  sometimes  near  at  hand  ;  the  huge 
porpoises  which  threw  themselves  with  a  sud- 
den leap  and  plunge  out  from  the  water  and 
back  again,  —  each  and  all  had  their  charm  for 
her ;  and,  if  undisturbed,  she  would  sit  for 
hours,  her  doll  clasped  in  her  arms,  gazing  her 
fill,  and  thinking  her  own  thoughts.  Happy, 
peaceful  thoughts  they  were  too,  if  one  might 
judge  by  the  expression  of  her  sweet  little  face. 

"  How  my  Bessie  loves  the  sea,  does  she 
not  ?  "  said  her  father,  sitting  down  beside  her 
one  time  when  he  found  her  thus  absorbed. 

"  Yes,  papa,  dearly ;  but  then  I  love  the  real 
sea  better." 


56  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  But  this  is  the  real  sea,  darling." 

"  But  I  mean  the  real^  real  sea,  papa  ;  the 
true,  very  sea,"  said  the  little  girl. 

''  I  do  not  know  how  you  could  have  more 
real  sea  than  this,  dear,"  said  her  father,  rath- 
er at  a  loss  to  know  what  she  could  mean. 
"  We  are  many,  many  miles  from  land.  You 
can  see  none  on  any  side.  It  is  water,  water, 
the  real  true  ocean,  all  around  us,  as  far  and 
farther  than  our  eyes  can  reach.  You  do  not 
mean  that  you  would  have  it  rough  and 
stormy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  papa !  "  Bessie  answered,  rather 
puzzled  herself  how  to  make  her  meaning  plain 
to  her  father ;  "  but  I  mean  that  kind  of  sea 
where  the  waves  come  slowly,  slowly  on  the 
beach,  all  white  and  curly,  and  make  that  nice 
sound  I  like  so  much.  It  does  not  come  in  this 
kind  of  a  sea." 

"Oh,  ho  !  "  said  her  father,  "  I  understand. 
It  is  the  seashore  you  are  longing  for,  even 
more  than  the  open  sea  itself.  Well,  perhaps 
one  of  these  days,  you  may  be  there  again." 


Lucy.  57 

"  Oh  !  do  you  think  I  might  be,  papa  ?  Oh, 
that  would  be  so  delightful !  "  and. she  turned 
her  little,  eager,  wistful  face  to  her  father  with 
such  a  sparkle  in  her  eye. 

"  I  think  it  more  than  likely  that  such  a 
thing  will  come  to  pass,  Bessie,"  said  Mr. 
Bradford  ;  but  he  did  not  tell  her  what  a  pleas- 
ant surprise  awaited  her  in  the  course  of  her 
summer  travels. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  again  presently,  "  do  not 
these  dear  little  waves  we  have  to-day  make 
you  think  of  our  Maggie  ?  They  seem  just 
like  her,  as  if  they  were  dancing  and  laughing, 
and  so  glad  and  gay." 

"  Yes,"  said  her  father,  pleased  at  the  pretty 
conceit  of  the  affectionate  little  sister,  "  and 
God's  sunshine,  pouring  down  upon  these 
merry  waves  and  touching  them  with  light  and 
sparkle,  is  like  the  love  and  tenderness  which 
make  our  Maggie's  heart  so  gay  and  happy." 

"  And  I  am  a  little  bit  of  Maggie's  sunshine : 
am  I  not,  papa  ?  "  asked  the  sweet  Bessie. 

The  reply  came  in  a  squeeze,  half  a  dozen 


58  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

smothering  kisses,  and  a  squeal  meant  to  ex- 
press affection  and  delight,  from  Maggie  her- 
self, who,  coming  up  behind  them  and  hearing 
Bessie's  question,  answered  after  her  own  pe- 
culiar fashion. 

Yes :  they  were  both  true  sunbeams,  these 
two  dear  little  girls :  sunbeams  as  all  children 
may  be,  because  they  were  happy ;  happy  be- 
cause they  were  good  and  generous  and  loving ; 
sunbeams  to  one  another  and  to  all  around 
them,  shedding  light  and  brightness  wherever 
they  passed. 

"  Bessie,"  said  Maggie,  when  she  had  done 
hugging  and  kissing  her  sister,  "  I've  made 
a  very  surprising  discovery.  Do  you  see  that 
little  girl  sitting  over  there  ?  I've  seen  her 
before." 

*'  Yes,"  answered  Bessie.  "  She's  a  kind  of 
errand  girl  and  helps  the  stewardess.  Yes- 
terday morning  when  you  were  so  sick  she 
brought  some  ice  for  you ;  but  I  didn't  speak 
to  her,  'cause  I  felt  so  bad  about  you." 

"  But,  do  you  know  who  her  father  is,  Bes- 
sie ? " 


Lucy.  59 

'^  No,"  said  Bessie.     "  Who  ?  " 

"  That  man  downstairs,  the  steam- clock 
man.     Isn't  that  very  curious  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes.  How  did  you  find  out,  Mag- 
gie ?  " 

"  Well,  Belle  and  Lily  and  I  were  there, 
while  you  looked  at  the  water,  and  that  child 
came  and  stood  by  us  ;  and  she  looked  so 
very  wishful  at  our  dolls,  that  I  told  her  she 
might  hold  Bessie  Margaret  Marion  a  little 
while  if  she  would  be  careful  of  her ;  and  you 
don't  know  how  pleased  she  seemed  then ;  and, 
Bessie,  what  do  you  think,  the  poor  child  never 
had  a  doll  in  her  life,  'cept  only  a  rag  one, 
and  she  has  no  mother  or  sisters  or  any  one 
but  her  father ;  and  the  captain  lets  her  live 
with  her  father  on  board  the  steamer  ;  and  she 
tries  to  help  the  stewardess  and  run  about ; 
and  she  don't  like  the  sea  a  bit,  she  is  so  tired 
of  being  on  it  most  all  the  time  ;  and  she's  just 
my  age,  only  a  year  older ;  and  Lily  asked 
her  if  her  father  was  a  cross  patch  to  her,  and 
she  was  rather  mad  at  that,  and  said  no  :  he 


6o  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

was  good  and  kind  as  could  be,  and  she  loved 
him  dearly.  And  so  I  told  her  Lily  did  not 
mean  to  make  her  mad,  —  only  we  thought 
perhaps  she  did  not  find  him  very  interesting 
'cause  he  would  not  talk  much.  But  she  did 
not  seem  to  like  that  very  much  either :  so  I 
said,  very  quickly,  that  maybe  the  reason  her 
father  did  not  talk  much  was  because  he  had 
so  much  thinking  to  do ;  and  then  she  looked 
pleased  again,  and  said  yes,  that  was  it,  bit 
he  always  talked  enough  to  her.  And  then  T 
told  her  I  felt  so  very  sorry  for  him,  'cause  he 
had  to  walk  up  and  down  that  little  place, 
with  nothing  to  do  but  to  look  at  those  old 
clock  things ;  and  I  knew  I  never  could  be  so 
strict  with  my  duty,  for  I  would  be  sure  to 
laugh  or  talk  or  something." 

"  And  didn't  she  look  pleased  when  you  said 
that  about  her  father  ?  "  asked  Bessie,  when 
Maggie  had  come  to  the  end  of  this  long  story, 

"  Oh,  yes  !  And  she  said  he  did  not  like 
to  do  it,  but  he  had  to  make  a  living,"  an- 
swered Maggie. 


Lucy,  6 1 

"  Fin  real  sorry  for  both  of  them,"  said 
Bessie.  "  You  know,  Maggie,  we  said  we 
would  like  to  be  kind  to  him  if  we  could, 
'cause  he  had  such  a  stupid  time  ;  and  I  s'pose 
he  would  be  just  as  pleased  if  we  did  a  kind 
thing  to  his  girl." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie :  "  if  he's  a  dutiful 
father,  he  would.  I  was  thinking  we  might 
give  her  a  doll  to  amuse  herself  with." 

"  Not  one  of  ours  ?  "  said  Bessie,  holding 
Margaret  Colonel  Horace  fast,  as  if  she 
thought  she  was  to  be  taken  from  her  at  once. 

''  Oh,  no !  We  never  could  give  up  these 
dolls,"  said  Maggie.  "  We  love  them  too 
much  ;  and  besides  the  Colonel  gave  them  to 
us,  so  it  would  never  do.  But  then,  you  know, 
we  have  some  of  our  own  money  with  us  ; 
and  I  thought  when  the  steamer  stopped  going 
and  we  come  to  that  part  of  the  world  that 
is  land  again,  maybe  we  might  find  a  toy- 
store  and  buy  her  a  doll  of  her  own." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie.  '-'"  Papa,  do  they  have 
stores  in  Savannah  ?  " 


62  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

*'  Plenty,"  answered  papa,  "  and  doubtless 
we  shall  find  a  toy-store  without  trouble. " 

"  And  we  may  buy  Lucy  a  doll,  may  we  not, 
papa  ?  "  said  Maggie.  "  You  see,  it's  pretty 
hard  for  a  child  to  have  no  relations,  or  dolls, 
or  other  advantages,  except  only  a  father." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Bradford,  laughing,  ''  i^ 
you  choose  to  spend  your  money  to  give  pleas- 
ure to  this  little  girl,  who  is  so  poorly  off,  you 
may  certainly  do  so." 

The  children  were  delighted  with  their 
papa's  consent ;  and  when  Belle  and  Lily 
heard  of  the  plan,  they  begged  Maggie  and 
Bessie  to  let  them  join  in  giving  this  pleasure 
to  the  poor  child  who  had  so  few  enjoyments. 
Maggie  and  Bessie  readily  agreed  :  and  it  was 
settled  that  when  they  reached  Savannah,  one 
of  the  first  things  to  be  done  should  be  the 
purchase  of  a  doll  for  Lucy  Waters ;  for  such 
was  the  name  of  the  little  girl. 

Our  four  young  friends  were  not  the  only 
children  on  the  steamer  with  whom  Lucy  had 
something  to  do,  as  you  shall  hear. 


Lucy,  (>3 

"Father,"  she  said,  as  she  sat  upon  his 
knee  that  evening,  wliile  he  was  off  duty, 
"  there  are  some  nice  little  girls  on  board, 
this  trip." 

"  Humph  ! "  was  all  the  answer  she  received  ; 
for,  in  spite  of  Lucy's  assertion  tliat  her  father 
talked  enough  to  her,  he  did  not  throw  away 
too  many  words,  even  upon  her :  but  Lucy  was 
used  to  his  way,  and  did  not  mind  it,  for  she 
knew  he  loved  her  dearly. 

"  There  are,"  she  insisted.  ^'  One  of  them 
let  me  take  her  doll,  and  it  can  turn  its  head ; 
and  she  let  me  do  it,  and  move  its  arms  too. 
And  another  one  was  kind  to  me  when  some 
other  children  said  bad  things  to  me.  There 
they  are,  father  :  don't  you  see  them  ?  "  and 
she  pointed  to  where  Maggie  and  Bessie  were 
sitting,  with  their  father  and  mother. 

"  Thought  so,"  said  Waters,  who  was  not 
really  surly,  but  only  silent  and  unsociable. 

"  T\l]iy  how,  father !  Did  you  know  about 
it?" 

"No,"  replied  her  father,  "  but  thought  like 


64  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

enough  it  was  them  when  you  said  some  spoke 
nice  to  you.  Seem  like  kindly,  loving,  little 
souls." 

"  There  are  two  more  nice  ones,  that  play 
with  'em,"  said  Lucy. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Waters  again,  "  one  of  'em 
is  a  saucy  mischief,  I  guess." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Lucy,  "  I  know  which  one 
you  mean.  They  call  her  Lily.  I  didn't  like 
her  so  much  at  first ;  but  I  do  now,  'cause  she 
slapped  a  boy's  face  who  said  hateful  things 
to  me." 

If  Lucy  imagined  her  father  would  ask  what 
the  boy  had  said,  she  was  mistaken ;  for  he 
smoked  away  without  a  word  more.  But  the 
memory  of  her  wrongs  was  too  great  to  be 
borne  in  silence,  and  presently  she  said, — 

"  Are  not  my  clothes  very  nice,  father  ?  " 

"  Nice  as  I  can  afford,  anyhow,"  he  answered 
without  taking  his  pipe  from  his  lips. 

"  I  told  that  boy  and  his  sisters  they  were 
as  nice  as  anybody's,"  said  Lucy  ;  ''  but  maybe 
they're  not."     And  taking  off  her  bonnet,  she 


Lucy,  65 

turned  it  round  and  round,  eying  it  rather 
mournfullj.  "  I  don't  think  this  kind  of  a  hat 
is  so  nice  as  those  little  girls',  father  ;  nor 
this  long  apron  so  nice  as  their  short  frocks. 
I  wonder  if  I  couldn't  make  'em  look  better, 
so  folks  wouldn't  laugh  at  me." 

Now,  I  think  Waters  was  somewhat  mis- 
taken when  he  said  Lucj's  clothes  were  as  nice 
as  he  could  afford.  He  had  good  wages,  and 
his  little  girl  did  not  want  for  what  was  neces- 
sary to  make  her  neat  and  comfortable  :  but 
he  did  not  know  how  to  dress  her ;  and  the 
enormous  shaker  bonnet,  which  would  have 
fitted  a  grown  woman  ;  and  long,  scant  apron 
which  came  to  her  feet,  —  cost  no  less,  perhaps 
more,  than  the  short  frock  and  round  straw 
hat,  which  would  have  been  more  conyenient 
and  suitable  for  a  girl  of  her  age. 

Poor  Lucy  knew  she  looked  very  different 
from  most  children  of  her  own  size  ;  but,  al- 
though she  kept  herself  very  tidy,  she  did  not 
see  how  she  was  to  remedy  this  difficulty.  She 
was  a  funny  little  figure,  certainly :  more  so  than 

6 


66  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

she  was  aware  of;  but  it  had  never  troubled 
her  much  until  this  afternoon,  when  some 
rude  but  well-dressed  boys  and  girls,  who 
would  have  been  very  indignant  if  they  had 
been  told  they  were  not  half  so  well-bred  and 
polite  as  the  engineer's  little  daughter,  had 
annoyed  her  very  much. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  had  noticed  these  chil- 
dren, but,  seeing  how  rough  and  boisterous 
they  were,  had  rather  avoided  them.  But 
that  afternoon,  while  they,  with  Belle  and 
Lily,  were  talking  to  Lucy,  and  asking  her 
some  questions  about  her  homeless,  seafaring 
life,  these  boys  and  girls  came  up  to  them. 

Not  having  at  that  moment  any  dispute  to 
settle  among  themselves,  they  were  ready  to 
band  together  against  any  one  else  ;  and  Lucy 
presented  a  tempting  mark  for  attack. 

"  Ho !  you  seem  to  have  picked  up  a  fine 
acquaintance  there ! "  said  Arthur  Lathrop,  the 
eldest  of  the  brothers. 

"  She  is  dressed  in  the  last  fashion,"  said 
Charlotte,  his  sister,  with  a  scornful  look  at 
Lucy. 


Lucy,  b7 

"  Quite  the  style,"  joined  in  the  other  boy. 
'*You  brought  your  bonnet  from  the  Paris 
Exposition  :   did  you  not,  ma'am  ?  " 

Poor  Lucy  had  not  the  least  idea  what  the 
Paris  Exposition  was  ;  but  she  knew  very  well 
that  these  unkind  children  were  making  fun 
of  her,  and  she  drew  back  with  a  hurt  and 
angry  look. 

"  Couldn't  you  give  my  sisters  the  pattern 
of  that  lovely  bonnet  ?  "  said  Arthur. 

"  And  of  that  outside  toggery  too,"  said 
William,  "  whatever  its  name  is.  Not  being 
used  to  such  an  elegant  style  of  dress,  I  don't 
know  what  to  call  it." 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  talk  so,"  said 
Bessie,  indignantly.  "  She's  a  nice,  good,  little 
girl,  who  tries  to  be  a  help  to  every  one  ;  and 
if  her  clothes  are  not  so  very  pretty,  she  can't 
help  it.  It  is  better  to  have  good  clothes  and 
be  bad,  than  to  have  bad  clothes  and  be  good," 
added  the  little  girl,  saying  just  the  opposite 
of  what  she  intended. 

But    no    one    noticed    her   mistake.     The 


68  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Lathrops  were  all  too  intent  on  their  victim, 
the  other  little  ones  too  full  of  sympathy  and 
indignation,  to  pay  much  heed  to  a  choice  of 
words. 

"  Well,"  returned  William,  provokingly, 
"  don't  we  say  she  is  the  most  stylish,  fashion- 
able young  lady  we  have  seen  this  long  time. 
For  me,  I  am  struck  dumb  with  admiration." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Charlotte,  "  didn't  you 
say  that  bonnet  was  the  latest  fashion  from 
the  Exposition  ? " 

"  Or  from  Noah's  ark :  which  is  it  ?  Pray 
tell  us,  miss,"  put  in  Arthur  with  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Let  her  be,  you  bad  boys,"  said  Belle. 

"  She  looks  a  great  deal  nicer  than  any  of 
you,"  said  Lily,  too  anxious  to  take  up  Lucy's 
defence  to  think  of  the  exact  truth  of  her 
statement. 

"  Oh !  of  course,  of  course,"  retorted  Ar- 
thur. "  She  is  quite  a  model.  I  propose  we 
all  ask  our  mothers  to  buy  us  just  such 
clothes.  Don't  leave  us,  Miss  Elegance ; "  and 
he  caught  hold  of  poor  Lucy,  who  had  turned 
to  run  away. 


Lucy,  69 

*^  Let  her  be,"  said  Lily. 

"  You're  very  ungrateful,"  said  Maggie. 
"  This  morning  when  you  called  the  steward- 
ess, I  saw  Lucy  run  very  quick  to  call  her. 
You  ought  to  be  ashamed  all  of  you.  You're 
as  bad  as  the  Elisha  children  in  the  Bible, 
that  were  eaten  up." 

"  Are  you  going  to  let  her  go  ? "  asked 
Lily,  with  a  threatening  shake  of  her  head 
at  the  young  tyrant,  who  still  held  Lucy  fast. 

"  As  soon  as  she  tells  us  how  many  hun 
dred  dollars  she  paid  for  this  love  of  a  bon- 
net," said  Arthur,  tossing  off  the  unlucky 
shaker  with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  and  finger. 

Without  another  word,  Lily  reached  up  her 
small  hand,  and  gave  the  big  boy  a  sounding 
slap  upon  his  cheek.  La  his  surprise,  he 
loosed  his  hold  of  Lucy,  who  quickly  snatched 
up  her  bonnet,  and  made  good  her  escape. 

Arthur  turned  fiercely  upon  Lily;  but  she 
stood  her  ground,  and  not  exactly  caring, 
bully  though  he  was,  to  strike  back  at  a  girl 
so  much  smaller  than  himself,  he  contented 


70  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

himself  with  catching  her  still  uplifted  hand 
in  his,  and  saying, — 

"  How  dare  you  do  that  ?  " 

"  'Cause  you  deserved  it,"  said  Lily,  sternly. 

"  And  I've  a  good  mind  to  give  you  an- 
other," said  Belle. 

"  Children  !  Children  !  "  said  Mr.  Powers, 
who  had  seen  from  a  distance  that  trouble 
was  threatening,  and  had  come  to  prevent  it. 
"  What  is  the  matter  here  ?  Quarrelling  and 
striking  ? " 

"  I'm  striking,"  said  Lily,  rather  proud  of 
having  given  a  blow  in  what  she  considered 
a  just  cause  ;  "  but  I'm  not  quarrelling,  sir." 

"  No,  papa,"  said  Belle.  "  We're  not  quar- 
relling :  it's  only  those  bad,  mean  ones  ;  "  and 
she  pointed  at  the  Lathrops  with  as  much 
scorn  in  her  tone  and  manner  as  they  had 
used  towards  Lucy. 

But  these  children,  knowing  right  well  that 
their  share  in  the  dispute  was  by  far  the  worst, 
did  not  choose  to  face  Mr.  Powers's  inquiries, 
and  now  scattered  in  all  directions. 


Lucy,  71 

"  Striking  and  calling  names  look  a  good  deal 
like  quarrelling,"  said  Mr.  Powers,  smiling. 

"  But  we  had  to  take  Lucy's  side,  papa," 
said  Belle  ;  and  neither  she  nor  Lily  was  to  be 
persuaded  that  it  was  not  right  for  the  latter 
to  strike  a  blow  in  Lucy's  defence.  Indeed, 
Maggie  and  Bessie  were  rather  inclined  to 
hold  the  same  opinion,  and  all  four  were  quite 
excited  over  Lucy's  wrongs. 

Wliile  Lucy  was  telling  her  father  the  story, 
they  were  talking  it  over  among  themselves ; 
and  knowing,  in  spite  of  their  sympathy,  that 
she  presented  rather  a  comical  figure,  were 
trying  to  think  of  some  means  by  which  they 
might  help  her  to  dress  herself  more  like 
other  children.  But  they  did  not  see  exactly 
how  it  was  to  be  done,  nor  did  Mrs.  Bradford 
when  they  consulted  her. 

"  I  fear  it  would  not  do  to  offer  Lucy 
clothes,  my  darlings,"  she  said :  "  those  she 
wears,  though  odd-looking,  are  good  and 
comfortable ;  and  her  father  might  be  offended 
if  we  offered  her  any  thing  which  seemed  like 


72  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

charity,  or  let  him  know  that  we  do  not  think 
her  properly  dressed." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Bessie,  gravely,  "  do  you 
think  a  thing  is  comfortable  when  it  makes  a 
child  laughed  at  ? " 

"  Well,  no,  dear,  perhaps  not,"  answered 
Mrs.  Bradford,  smiling,  "  and  I  am  very  sorry 
for  Lucy.  Mrs.  Norris  and  I  were  saying 
this  morning  that  we  wished  we  might  tell 
the  poor  cliild  how  to  make  herself  look  less 
like  a  little  old  woman,  but  we  thought  it 
would  not  do  to  interfere." 

"I'd  wish  somebody  would  interfere  if  it 
was  me,"  said  Maggie.  "  It  must  be  most  too 
much  to  have  a  father  who  won't  talk,  and 
who  has  such  very  bad  taste." 

This  was  said  with  so  much  emphasis,  and 
with  such  a  long-drawn  sigh  at  the  end,  as  if 
the  mere  thought  of  such  misfortune  were  al- 
most too  much  for  Maggie,  that  every  one 
laughed. 

Bessie  had  less  to  say  about  Lucy's  troubles 
than  any  of  the  others  ;  but  she  thought  more 


Lucy,  73 

of  them  :  for  we  know  how  sensitive  she  her- 
self was  to  ridicule,  and  she  could  not  bear  to 
think  that  Lucy  might  have  to  undergo  the 
same  trial  again. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said,  coming  to  her  mother's 
side  that  evening,  "  there  are  Lucy  and  her 
father  sitting  at  the  head  of  those  steps,  and 
she  is  showing  him  those  queer  dressing-gown 
frocks  of  hers.  Could  I  go  and  speak  to 
them  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bradford  turned  to  see  if  it  was  a  prop- 
er place  for  Bessie  to  go  to,  and  then  gave  her 
permission,  thinking  that  her  little  girl  might 
possibly  see  some  way  to  help  Lucy,  and  trust- 
ing to  her  good  sense  and  kind  heart  not  to  say 
any  thing  that  might  give  offence. 

"  Maybe  they're  not  just  the  right  shape," 
said  the  engineer,  as  Bessie  came  near ;  "  but  I 
don't  know  how  you  are  to  better  them ;  "  and 
he  turned  over  and  over  the  two  frocks,  just 
like  the  one  Lucy  had  on,  which  lay  across  his 
knee.     "  Maybe  Dorothy  would  show  you." 

"  I  don't  like  to  ask  her,"  said  Lucy ;    or 


74  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

Dorothy  the  stewardess,  was  rather  sharp  and 
short  with  her. 

Bessie  came  close. 

"  Would  you  be  offended  if  some  one  tried 
to  be  kind  to  Lucy  ?  "  she  asked,  seizing  her 
opportunity. 

She  was  quite  surprised  to  see  how  pleasant- 
ly Waters  smiled  as  he  answered,  — 

"  Not  I.  Those  that  are  friends  to  my  Lucy 
are  friends  to  me." 

"  Some  children  laughed  at  her,"  said  Bes- 
sie, wishing  to  put  the  case  as  gently  as  she 
could. 

The  engineer  frowned  and  nodded. 

"  I  told  him,"  said  Lucy. 

"  There's  no  excuse  for  them,"  continued 
Bessie,  looking  out  over  the  waters  as  if  she 
were  talking  more  to  herself  than  to  the  man, 
*'  but  perhaps  they  would  not  have  done  it,  if 
—  if —  if  Lucy's  clothes  were  —  were  a  little 
prettier." 

"And  I'll  warrant  if  your  power  was  as 
good  as  your  will,  you'd  make  them  prettier 


Lucy,  75 

for  her,"  answered  the  engineer.  "  You're  a 
kind  little  lady.  Lucy  was  just  asking  me  if 
I  could  tell  her  how  to  fix  up  her  things  a  bit ; 
but  I  don't  know.  Old  Mrs.  Sims,  who  does 
her  washing  and  sewing,  she  bought  them, 
and  I  didn't  see  but  they  were  all  right ;  but 
now  Lucy  says  they're  not,  and  she  can't  do 
'em  over." 

Lucy  stood  listening  in  amazement  to  this 
unusually  long  speech  from  her  father,  who 
was  very  rarely  so  sociable  with  any  one  as  he 
now  was  with  Bessie. 

"  But  you  wouldn't  mind  if  mamma  was  to 
try  and  help  her,  would  you  ?  "  Bessie  asked 
in  a  coaxing  voice. 

"  Mind !  "  said  the  engineer,  "I'd  be  only 
too  thankful,  and  so  would  my  Lucy  ;  but  such 
a  lady  as  your  mamma  doesn't  want  to  bother 
with  a  little  stranger  girl." 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  does!"  said  Bessie,  eagerly, 
"  and  mamma  don't  think  it  a  bit  of  bother  if 
she  can  do  a  kind  thing  for  some  one  ;  and 
she  said  she  would  like  to  fix  Lucy  up,  'cause 


76  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

she  was  such  a  nice,  tidy  child.  Come  and 
show  her  these,  Lucy  ; "  and  without  waiting  for 
more  words,  she  snatched  up  one  gown,  and 
taking  Lucy  by  tlie  hand  drew  her  after  her, 
telling  her  to  bring  the  other  two  with  her. 

Lucy  obeyed  rather  timidly  ;  but  the  kind 
manner  and  words  of  the  two  ladies,  Mrs. 
Bradford  and  ]\Irs.  Norris,  soon  put  her  at  her 
ease,  and  she  became  deeply  interested  in  the 
plans  for  putting  what  Bessie  called  "  the 
dressing-gown  "  frocks  into  proper  shape. 

There  were  four  of  them,  all  alike,  of  a 
good  but  dull  gingham,  without  the  least  shape 
or  fit,  save  what  was  given  by  a  string  about 
the  waist;  very  long  and  scant, —  so  scant, 
that  the  ladies  decided  it  would  take  two  to 
make  one  suitable  frock.  Lucy  asked  and 
readily  obtained  leave  from  her  father  for  this  ; 
and  Mrs.  Bradford  allowed  the  four  little  girls 
to  begin  the  work  that  very  night  by  ripping 
apart  the  seams. 

She  and  Mrs.  Norris  went  to  work  also 
that  evening ;  and  when   the   steamer   came 


Lucy,  77 

into  port  the  following  night,  Lucy  was  made 
happy  by  having  one  dress  made  in  a  manner 
proper  for  a  girl  of  her  age  ;  and  knowing  that 
the  second  was  surely  promised  to  her  by  Mrs. 
Bradford.  Belle  presented  her  with  "  the  doll 
of  moderation,"  which  she  had  brought  with 
her,  she  and  her  young  friends  having  con- 
cluded to  keep  their  money  for  another  purpose 
instead  of  buying  a  new  one. 

The  day  on  which  the  vessel  started  on  her 
return  voyage,  Mr.  Bradford  and  Mr.  Powers 
drove  down  with  their  little  daughters  and 
Lily  Norris  ;  and  the  children  brought  Lucy 
not  only  her  own  gingham  frock,  but  also  two 
others,  of  bright,  simple  calico,  all  nicely  made 
up  ;  and  a  straw  hat  with  a  blue  ribbon  upon  it. 
These  were  all  their  own  presents,  bought  with 
their  own  money,  only  the  making  having  been 
paid  for  by  their  mammas ;  so  that  the  engi- 
neer could  find  no  fault  with  the  kindness  done 
to  his  little  girl  by  these  thoughtful  young 
strangers. 

Lucy  was  contented  beyond  measure  with 


78  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

her  new  clothes  ;  but  no  words  could  do  jus- 
tice to  her  satisfaction  and  pleasure  in  her  doll. 
What  a  treasure  it  was  1  What  a  delight  in 
her  rather  lonely  little  life  !  She  talked  to  it, 
and  caressed  it,  slept  with  it  in  her  arms  at 
night,  kissed  it  the  first  thing  in  the  morning, 
dressed  and  undressed  it,  and  learned  to  use 
her  needle  in  fashioning  clothes  for  it.  Her  fa- 
ther might  be  too  busy  to  attend  to  her ;  Dorothy 
might  snub  her  ;  fretful,  impatient  passengers 
send  her  hither  and  thither  till  she  was  ready 
to  drop  from  fatigue,  —  she  had  one  solace  and 
delight  that  repaid  her  for  all :  the  recollection 
of  that  little  china  head,  and  the  staring,  blue 
eyes  which  lay  upon  the  pillow  in  her  berth, 
the  kisses  which  she  would  run  and  snatch 
now  and  then,  till  her  time  was  her  own  once 
more,  and  she  could  pet  and  nurse  her  little 
treasure  to  her  heart's  content. 

And  so  our  four  little  travellers  have  begun 
their  journey  with  a  kind  deed  which  brought 
pleasure  and  comfort,  such  as  they  did  not 
dream  of,  into  this  poor,  craving,  young  heart, 


Lucv* 


79 


which  had  had  so  little  to  feed  upon  ;  and  went 
upon  their  way  followed  by  blessmgs  and  grate- 
ful, happy  memories. 


IV. 


AN   OLD   ENEMY  BUT  NEW  FRIEND. 


T  was  late  at  night  when  our  travellers 
reached  Savannah,  so  late  and  so 
dark  that  even  quick-sighted,  wide- 
awake Maggie  could  see  nothing  about  her  as 
they  rode  to  the  hotel,  save  the  twinkling 
street-lamps ;  and  she  was  as  ready  as  the 
other  children  to  be  put  to  bed  at  once  and 
postpone  all  questions  and  sight-seeing  until 
the  morning. 

But  you  need  not  fear  I  am  going  to  trouble 
you  with  a  long  description  of  the  beautiful, 
quaint,  old  city,  with  its  numberless  green 
squares  which  make  it  so  bright  and  airy ;  its 
broad  avenues  planted  with  three  rows  of  trees, 
so  tall  and  wide-spread  that  their  branches 
have  laced    overhead,   making    lovely,  leafy 


An   Old  E7iemy  but  New  Friend,     8 1 

arches  for  one  to  pass  beneath  ;  its  roses  — 
such  roses  !  the  like  of  which  we  do  not  see 
in  our  colder  northern  climate  ;  roses,  which 
with  us  are  only  bushes,  growing  there  into 
trees,  or  running  into  luxuriant  vines  which 
clothe  the  fronts  and  sides  of  the  old-fashioned 
houses,  covered  with  a  profusion  of  blossoms, 
and  filling  the  air  with  their  delicious  fra- 
grance. They  were  just  in  the  perfection  of 
their  glory  when  our  friends  arrived,  and  it 
would  be  impossible  to  tell  the  delight  Bessie 
took  in  them.  Her  love  of  flowers  here  had 
full  enjoyment  in  these  her  favorites.  Morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night,  she  was  seen  with  her 
little  hands  filled  with  roses,  —  for  the  family 
were  kept  well  supplied,  thanks  to  the  graceful 
southern  fashion  of  sending  flowers  to  all  new- 
comers and  strangers ;  they  were  twisted 
among  her  curls  and  worn  in  her  bosom,  laid 
beside  her  plate  at  meals,  and  she  would  even 
have  slept  with  them  on  her  pillow,  if  mamma 
would  have  allowed  it. 

She  made  a  pretty  picture  as  she  sat  upon 


82  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

the  staircase  of  the House,  the  day  after 

their  arrival,  her  lap  full  of  red,  white,  and 
yellow  roses,  which  she  was  arranging  with 
no  small  taste  and  daintiness  into  bouquets 
for  her  people. 

Three  pair  of  eyes  were  watching  her, — 
those  of  a  grave-looking  gentleman,  who  stood 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs ;  and  those  of  Ar- 
thur and  Charlotte  Lathrop,  who  were  peering 
at  her  over  the  banisters  from  above.  But 
Bessie  noticed  neither  until  Arthur  called  her 
attention  by  making  a  sound  like  a  snarling 
dog.  Bessie  started  and  looked  up,  then  went 
on  with  her  work  in  silence. 

"  I  say,"  said  Arthur,  "  are  you  making  a 
wreath  of  roses  for  that  old  Mother  Hubbard 
you  took  such  a  fancy  to  on  board  the  steam- 
er ? "  - 

Bessie  made  no  answer. 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  when  you're  spoken 
to  ?  "  said  Arthur.  "  Did  you  give  your  tongue 
to  Mother  Hubbard  ?  " 

"  When  I'm  talked  to  politely,  I  always  do 
Bpeak,"  said  the  little  girl. 


Bessie's  Travels. 


p.  82. 


An  Old  Enemy  but  New  Friend.       83 

"  Oh !  and  we're  not  polite  enough  to  suit 
you,  I  suppose,"  said  Arthur,  sneeringly. 

"  'Tis  only  engineers'  daughters  and  the 
like  who  are  fit  company  for  her,"  joined  in 
Charlotte. 

"  We  might  go  and  take  lessons  from 
Mother  Hubbard,  and  then  perhaps  she'd  like 
us  better,"  said  Arthur.  "  I  say.  Miss  Brad- 
ford, what  school  did  you  learn  your  manners 
in,  that  you  don't  speak  when  you're  spoken 
to?" 

Bessie  remained  silent  again. 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  "  shouted  Arthur. 

"  Once  I  heard  of  a  school  where  they  only 
paid  two  cents  for  learning  manners,"  said 
Bessie,  demurely. 

"  What  then  ?  "   asked  Arthur. 

"  I  should  think  that  was  the  kind  of  a 
school  you  had  been  to,"  answered  Bessie. 

"  And  why,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

"  'Cause  I  shouldn't  think  they  could  teach 
much  manners  for  two  cents." 

Arthur  was  a  clever  boy  with  a  quick  sense 


84  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

of  humor ;  and  he  was  so  struck  with  what 
he  considered  the  wit  and  smartness  of  the 
retort,  that  he  forgot  to  be  angry,  and,  instead 
of  making  a  sharp  answer,  broke  out  into  a 
hearty  laugh. 

"  Pretty  good  that  I  "  he  said.  "  You'll  do 
yet." 

"  Pretty  good,  and  pretty  well  deserved  too, 
my  lad,"  said  the  gentleman,  who  had  been 
standing  below,  coming  up  the  stairs.  ^'  See 
here,  Clara,  here  is  the  Queen  of  the  Fairies, 
I  believe,"  and  he  turned  around  to  a  lady 
who  ran  lightly  up  behind  him. 

"  Queen  of  the  Fairies,  indeed,"  said  the 
lady,  with  a  laughing  look  at  the  little  figure 
before  her,  in  its  white  dress  and  shining  hair, 
and  lap  covered  with  brilliant  flowers :  "or 
Queen  of  the "  —  What  she  would  have 
said  was  lost,  for  after  a  pause  of  astonish- 
ment she  exclaimed,  "  Why  !  it  is  —  yes,  it 
is  Bessie  Bradford  —  dear  little  Bessie  !  " 

And  regardless  of  her  muslin  dress  with 
its  fluted  flounces  and  ruffles,  down  went  the 


An  Old  Ene^ny  hut  New  Friend.       85 

lady  on  the  stairs  before  Bessie ;  and,  greatly 
to  her  surprise,  the  little  girl  found  herself 
held  fast  in  the  embrace  of  a  supposed 
stranger. 

But  it  was  no  stranger,  as  she  found  when 
she  could. free  herself  a  little  from  that  tight 
clasp,  and  look  in  the  lady's  face. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Bessie  ?  "  asked  the 
lady. 

"  Why  !  it's  Miss  Adams  !  "  cried  Bessie, 
in  as  great  amazement  as  the  new-comer 
herself. 

"  And  you  are  a  little  glad  to  see  me,  are 
you  not  ?  "  asked  the  lady,  seeing  with  pleas- 
ure the  smile  and  glow  on  Bessie's  face. 

"  Not  a  little.^  but  very.  Miss  Adams,"  she 
replied.  "  I  was  very  interested  about  you, 
and  always  thought  I'd  like  to  see  you  again 
after  I  heard  you'd "  —  here  she  hesitated 
for  a  word. 

"  Well,"  said  the  lady. 

"  I  can't  think  of  the  word,"  said  Bessie. 
"Oil,  yes!   reformed,  that's  it,  —  after  you'd 


86  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

reformed.  You  know  jou  wrote  and  told  us 
about  it  yourself." 
"[  At  this  "  Miss  Adams  "  went  off  into  a  fit 
of  laughter,  which  sounded  very  natural  to 
Bessie's  ears ;  and  yet  there  was  a  difference 
in  that  and  in  her  manner  from  those  of  the 
old  days  at  Quam  Beach;  something  softer 
and  more  gentle ;  "  more  as  if  she  remem- 
bered to  be  a  lady,  mamma,"  Bessie  said 
afterwards. 

The  gentleman  smiled  too. 

"  Her  words  are  to  the  point  when  she  does 
find  them,"  he  said. 

"  They  always  were,"  said  the  lady,  giving 
Bessie  another  kiss.  "  Bessie,  this  is  the 
gentleman  I  found  to  make  me  '  behave  my- 
self.' I  hope  you'll  find  the  'kitchen  lady' 
improved  under  his  teaching." 

Bessie  colored  all  over  face  and  neck. 

"  Oh !  please  don't,"  she  said.  "  I'm  so 
sorry  I  said  that ;  but  I  was  such  a  Httle  child 
then,  I  didn't  know  any  better.  I  wouldn't 
say  such  a  saucy  thing  now  for  a  great  deal." 


An  Old  Enemy  hut  New  Friend,       87 

"  You  need  not  be  sorry  about  it,  Bessie : 
I  am  not." 

"Please  don't  speak  about  it  any  more, 
ma'am,"  pleaded  the  child.  "  Couldn't  you 
let  bygones  be  bygones  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  bygones  '  ?  " 
asked  the  gentleman. 

"I  thought  it  meant,  sir,"  said  Bessie, 
modestly,  "  when  a  person  had  done  some- 
thing they  were  sorry  for,  not  to  say  any  thing 
more  about  it." 

"Yery  well,"  said  the  lady,  still  smiling. 
"  It  shall  be  so,  if  you  wish  it,  Bessie.  And 
now  tell  me  how  your  mamma  and  Maggie 
and  all  the  rest  are." 

"  Oh !  they  are  all  very  well,  except  mamma, 
and  she  is  better,  and  we  are  travelling  to  do 
her  good ;  and  a  great  many  things  happened 
to  us.  Miss  Adams,  since  you  knew  us  before." 

"  I  don't  think  it  has  '  happened '  to  you  to 
grow  much,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Oh,  yes'm  !  "  answered  Bessie.  "  I  used 
to  be  five,  and  now  I'm  seven ;   and  I've  been 


88  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

to  school  too.  We've  all  grown  pretty  old. 
Baby  can  walk  and  talk  now." 

"  And  how  do  you  like  my  doctor  ?  "  asked 
"  Miss  Adams,"  as  Bessie  still  called  her, 
glancing  round  at  the  gentleman  who  stood 
beside  her. 

Bessie  looked  up  at  him,  and  he  looked 
down  at  her,  and  when  their  eyes  met,  both 
smiled. 

"  I  like  him:  he  looks  good  and  nice;  "  and 
the  little  girl,  who  had  abeady  twisted  a  rose 
or  two  into  the  bosom  of  the  lady's  dress, 
now  handed  two  or  three  to  the  doctor  in 
her  own  graceful,  gracious  little  way. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  all  those 
bouquets  you  have  tied  up  so  tastily  ? "  asked 
Dr.  Gordon. 

Bessie  told  him  whom  they  were  for. 

"  And  who  is  this  for  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Gordon, 
—  for  so  she  told  Bessie  to  call  her,  —  pointing 
to  that  which  the  small  fingers  were  now  ar- 
ranging. 

"  It's  for  a  little  girl  down  at  the  steamer, 


An  Old  Enemy  but  New  Friend.       89 

"who  is  rather  hard  off,  and  does  not  have  a 
nice  time,  and  has  extremely  ugly  clothes," 
answered  Bessie.  "  But  then  if  they  are  the 
best  she  has,  and  she  has  no  mother,  no  one 
ought  to  laugh  at  her  :  ought  they  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not :  who  was  so  unkind  ? '' 
asked  Mrs.  Gordon. 

"  Some  children  who  didn't  behave  half  so 
nice  as  she  did,  ma'am." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  doctor ;  "  and  was  that  boy 
you  were  talking  to  just  now  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  sir,"  said  Bessie,  with  some 
hesitation.     "  But  how  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  am  a  good  guesser,"  answered  Dr. 
Gordon. 

"  I  don't  know  if  I  ought  to  have  said  that 
to  him,"  said  Bessie,  thoughtfully.  "  I  b'lievo 
1  was  pretty  severe." 

At  this  Mrs.  Gordon  went  off  into  another 
fit  of  laughter ;  and  the  doctor  smiled  as  he 
answered,  — 

'-'-  It  was  pretty  severe,  it  is  true,  Bessie ; 
but  not  more  so  than  he  deserved,  especially 


go  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

if  he  had  been  teasing  some  poor  child  who 
could  not  defend  herself." 

Bessie  colored,  and  answered,  "  But  I'm 
afraid  I  did  it  more  'cause  I  was  angry  for 
his  being  impolite  to  me  than  for  his  teasing 
Lucy." 

"  But  tell  us  all  about  it ;  and  did  you  say 
the  child  had  no  mother  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Gordon. 

In  reply,  Bessie  told  all  she  knew  about 
Lucy,  omitting,  however,  to  give  any  account 
of  the  unkindness  of  Arthur  Lathrop  and  his 
brother  and  sisters  to  the  poor  child.  This 
was  noticed  by  both  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Gordon, 
but  they  pressed  her  no  farther,  seeing  she 
did  not  wish  to  speak  of  it. 

"  There's  another  will  be  glad  to  come," 
said  Mrs.  Gordon,  eagerly,  to  her  husband. 
"  That  will  make  five.  You'll  see  this  engi- 
neer and  speak  to  him  about  it:  won't  you, 
Aleck?" 

"  All  in  good  time,  dear,"  he  answered 
quietly. 

Five  what  ?   Bessie  wondered ;  and  where 


An  Old  Enemy  but  JVew  Friend.       91 

would  Lucy  be  glad  to  come  ?  But  as  she 
supposed  they  would  tell  her  if  tliej  wished 
her  to  know,  she  asked  no  questions. 

But  her  curiosity  was  not  gratified  just 
then,  for  the  doctor  now  said  to  his  wife, — 

"  Come,  Clara,  we  are  keeping  our  friends 
waiting.  You  must  tell  little  Bessie  about 
your  plans  some  other  time. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Gordon.  "  We  have  to 
go  to  a  sick  friend  here  in  the  house,  Bessie  ; 
but  I  shall  come  to  call  on  your  mamma  to- 
morrow, and  then  I  shall  see  you  again  and 
ask  her  to  let  you  come  to  me ;  for  I  have 
something  to  tell  you,  in  which  I  think  you 
will  be  interested." 

"  Don't  you  live  here,  ma'am  ? "  asked 
Bessie. 

"Here  ?  yes,  here  in  Savannah,  but  not  in 
the  hotel ;  and  I  want  you  to  come  to  my 
house.  By  the  way,  where  is  Maggie  ?  I 
thought  you  were  always  together." 

''  Most  always,"  said  Bessie ;  "  but  Maggie 
and  the  other  children  went  with  Mr.  Powers 


92  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

and  papa  to  see  a  cotton-press  ;  and  mamma 
thought  I  was  too  tired,  so  I  told  Maggie  she 
need  not  mind  leaving  me.  And  now  I  am 
glad  I  did  not  go." 

"  And  I  am  sure  I  am  glad,"  said  Mrs.  Gor- 
don, as  she  kissed  Bessie  for  good-by,  and 
once  more  told  her  she  should  be  sure  to  see 
her  the  next  day,  and  would  arrange  with  her 
mamma  the  time  when  she  and  Maggie  might 
come  and  spend  the  day  with  her. 

Bessie  was  very  anxious  to  know  what  Mrs. 
Gordon  could  have  to  tell  her  which  was  to 
interest  her  so  much,  and  which  seemed  in 
some  way  to  concern  Lucy  Waters ;  but  she 
was  a  little  doubtful  regarding  the  prospect  of 
spending  the  whole  day  with  her  old  enemy 
"  Miss  Adams,"  not  feeling  at  all  sure  that  she 
would  like  it,  or  that  she  might  not  fall  into 
some  trouble,  in  spite  of  the  very  evident  and 
pleasing  change  in  that  lady. 

Maggie  was  not  at  all  doubtful,  and  posi- 
tively declared  that  she  would  not  go  on  any 
account ;  and  she  tried  to  persuade  Bessie  to 


An  Old  Enemy  out  New  Friend,       93 

join  her  in  begging  their  mother  to  refuse 
Mrs.  Gordon's  invitation  to  them. 

"  For  Bessie,"  she  said,  "  you  know  a  '  bird 
in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush ; '  and  so, 
even  if  Miss  Adams  is  so  much  better  than 
she  used  to  be,  it  is  wiser  to  stay  away  from 
her,  a,nd  not  give  her  the  chance  of  being  dis- 
agreeable if  she  wanted  to  be." 

Maggie  had  been  much  given  to  the  use  of 
proverbs  lately,  as  you  will  have  perceived; 
and  if  one  could  possibly  be  fitted  to  her  pur- 
pose, it  was  made  to  serve,  as  on  this  occasion. 

But  Bessie  did  not  feel  as  if  they  had  any  ex- 
cuse for  refusing  the  invitation  so  kindly  given, 
nor  did  mamma  when  she  was  appealed  to. 

"  You  certainly  need  not  go  if  you  do  not 
wish  it,  my  darlings,"  she  said ;  "  but  do  you 
think  it  likely,  Maggie,  that  Mrs.  Gordon 
would  invite  you  to  her  house,  and  then  treat 
you  unkindly?  She  must  be  a  good  deal 
changed,  it  seems  to  me  ;  and  would  it  not 
look  as  if  you  were  unforgiving,  if  you  refuse 
her  kindness  ? " 


94  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

**  Oh !  I  forgive  her,  mamma,"  said  Maggie, 
"  though  it  wcLS  my  own  Bessie  she  plagued  so  j 
but  then  I  thought  her  old  habits  might  be  too 
strong  for  her,  and  break  out  again." 

"  You  forgive,  but  don't  forget,  eh,  Maggie  ? 
Suppose  you  were  Mrs.  Gordon,  how  would 
you  like  Miss  Adams'  faults  to  be  treasured 
up  against  you,  and  allowed  to  stand  in  the 
way  when  you  wished  to  show  good-will  and 
kindness  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  like  it  at  all,  mamma ;  and  I 
suppose  it's  not  very  Golden  Euley  for  me  to 
say  I  won't  go  ;  so,  if  she  asks  us,  I'll  make  up 
my  mind  to  it." 

ISirs.  Gordon  came  the  next  day,  according 
to  promise,  to  call  on  Mrs.  Bradford  ;  and  in- 
vited not  only  Maggie  and  Bessie,  but  also 
Belle  and  Lily,  to  spend  the  whole  of  Friday 
with  her,  promising  to  call  for  them  in  the 
morning  and  bring  them  back  at  night. 

But  perhaps  you  will  find  it  more  interest* 
ing  to  read  Maggie's  own  account  of  this  visit, 
which  she  wrote  to  Colonel  Eush. 


An  Old  Enemy  but  New  Fi'iend.       95 

"Deae  Uncle  Horace,  —  Things  are  so 
very  surprising  in  this  world  that  you  never 
quite  know  how  they  are  going  to  turn  out,  of 
which  the  case  is  at  present,  Miss  Adams  or 
who  was  Miss  Adams  but  now  Mrs  Gordon 
and  you  will  remember  her  at  Quam  Beach  but 
under  unpleasant  circumstances  to  which  we 
will  not  refer  but  forget  as  well  as  forgive  as 
mamma  reminded  me.  But  you  would  be  sur- 
prised to  see  how  much  she  is  improved  and 
so  different  to  what  she  used  to  be  which  was 
greatly  to  be  desired  of  all  her  friends  and  a 
pleasure  to  all  who  wish  her  well.  So  seeing 
she  wished  to  make  up  for  past  offences  we 
went  to  spend  the  day  with  her  and:  she  was 
very  horspitable.  She  came  in  her  carriage 
to  take  us  to  her  house  which  is  most  hand- 
some with  roses  and  flowers  of  many  kinds  of 
which  she  brought  mamma  a  whole  lot  at  the 
same  time  and  invited  all  the  big  people  to 
dinner  the  next  day.  I  thiok  all  this  shows 
she  repents  sincerely  and  is  not  the  same 
woman  but  much  changed  and  ought  to  be  en- 


g6  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

couraged  to  keep  on  doing  well.  She  has  a 
nice  husband  named  Dr  Gordon,  but  sober 
which  is  not  his  own  fault  if  he  was  born  so 
and  I  pity  him.  And  a  sweet  baby  boy  named 
Aleck  and  crows  and  laughs  with  pleasure  at 
us.  But  I  hope  by  no  means  you  think  we 
think  him  so  sweet  as  May  Bessie  which  he 
is  not  and  May  Bessie  is  so  near  to  us,  which 
also  he  is  not  and  we  love  her  far  the  best. 
Miss  Adams  was  very  kind  to  us  all  day,  \r 
deed  quite  fond  but  most  of  all  to  Bessie,  and 
she  played  with  us  and  amused  us  and  I  was 
glad  I  did  not  let  the  devil  which  is  a  word 
that  is  not  best  to  write  unless  it  is  necessary 
get  the  upper  hand  and  make  me  stay  away 
out  of  revenge  or  being  shy. 

"  But  the  most  surprising  and  best  thing  of 
all.  Uncle  Horace  is  what  she  is  going  to  do 
with  some  of  her  money  You  know  in  those 
days  of  which  we  will  not  speak  she  had  a 
great  deal  more  than  she  knew  what  to  do 
with.  Well,  now  she  has  found  a  good  use  for 
some  of  it  in  a  way  well  nleasing  to  God  and 


An  Old  Enemy  but  JVew  Friend.       97 

men.  But  I  am  too  tired  to  write  more  to-day 
and  will  finish  it  to-morrow —  Well,  to  return 
on  tliis  day  to  Miss  Adams  and  her  good  works 
which  shows  she  has  read  her  Bible  which 
urges  to  repentance  of  sins  and  prophets  by  it 
which  is  a  sight  to  make  the  coldest  heart  to 
rejoice.  She  has  a  house  not  very  far  from 
her  own  where  she  lives  and  she  is  going  to 
have  six  little  girls  there  in  the  care  of  a  nice, 
kind  lady.  And  these  little  girls  are  not  to  be 
happy  children  with  mothers  to  take  care  of 
them,  but  orfuns  or  without  mothers  or  teach- 
ing or  training  in  the  way  they  should  go. 
For  Miss  Adams  says  she  knows  what  it  is  to 
be  without  a  mother  or  some  wise  person  to 
guide  her,  and  now  that  God  has  been  so  good 
to  her  she  wants  to  ^ive  a  helping  hand  to 
some  little  girls  who  would  be  left  too  much  to 
themselves  and  not  properly  taught.  She  does 
not  mean  to  have  very  poor  children,  and  if 
their  friends  wish  it  they  may  pay  a  little 
money  for  them  but  the  contrary  if  they  do 
not,  and  prefer  charity  though  she  does  not 
7 


98  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

think  it  such  and  would  like  them  to  come 
without  any  pay.  And  here  they  will  have  a 
happy  home  and  be  taught  to  be  desirable 
women  fit  for  teachers  or  other  good  things 
and  so  it  will  be  their  own  fault  if  they  don't 
do  it.  And  she  has  chosen  four  girls  who  are 
to  come  in  the  fall  when  Miss  Adams  comes 
back  from  the  north  because  things  cannot  be 
quite  ready  till  then,  as  the  lady  has  a  sailor 
son  who  is  to  go  to  sea  which  I  think  a  hard 
case  for  his  friends  to  have  him  leave  his  na- 
tive land.  And  then  the  house  will  be  ready 
and  the  lady  will  go  and  the  children  will 
come  and  Miss  Adams  is  going  to  see  if  Lucy 
Waters'  father  who  you  know  I  told  you 
about  in  my  last  will  let  her  come  too.  I 
think  if  he  does  not  he  will  be  much  wanting 
in  sence  and  proper  behaviour,  but  I  think  he 
will  dont  you  ?  Miss  Adams,  Mrs.  Gordon  T 
mean  but  I  always  forget  to  put  her  wedding 
name  says  she  feels  so  sorry  for  all  little 
motherless  girls,  and  I  am  glad  of  it  are  not 
you?     And    so  is   Bessie  and  we  think  the 


An  Old  Enemy  but  New  Friend,       99 

reason  Miss  Adams  takes  so  much  trouble  for 
these  little  girls  is  because  she  is  afraid  that 
if  they  do  not  have  good  care  they  may  grow 
up  to  be  such  women  as  she  used  to  be  when 
we  knew  her  before  but  wliich  is  not  to  be 
mentioned  in  these  pages  and  now  she  is  quite 
ashamed  of  it.  We  cannot  tell  just  yet  if 
Lucy's  father  will  let  her  come,  but  papa  and 
the  doctor  are  going  to  the  steamer  this  even- 
ing to  ask  him  and  when  we  know  Bessie  will 
writ€  and  tell  you  all  about  it.  And  Bessie 
and  I  have  quite  made  up  our  minds  to  take 
Miss  Adams  for  one  of  our  friends  because  we 
find  her  most  sencible  and  kind  and  so  changed 
from  her  old  ways  which  we  will  not  remember 
if  we  can  help  it. 

"  And  dear  Uncle  Horace  and  Aunt  May  we 
vish  you  were  here  'cause  we  are  having  such 
a  nice  time  and  I  wrote  such  a  long  letter  I 
am  afraid  you  will  be  tired  of  it  but  such  an 
interesting  subject  my  brains  were  quite  full 
and  I  had  to  and  you  must  excuse  it.  We 
send  two  kisses  for  May  Bessie  and  four  for 


lOO  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

you  and  hope  to  see  you  once  more  in  the 
tuture  when  we  come  home.  And  we  send  a 
great  deal  of  love  from  your  loving 

"  Maggie  and  Bessie." 

"  P.  S.  Savannah  is  such  a  fine  city  and  so 
many  trees  and  roses  that  it  seems  strange  to 
me  that  Alexander  the  Great  and  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  did  not  try  to  take  it,  being  both 
men  who  never  minded  their  own  business 
but  always  trying  to  take  what  did  not  belong 
to  them,  speshally  the  latter  whom  in  my 
heart  I  heartily  despise  because  he  never  did 
as  he  would  be  done  by." 


BELLE'S    HOME, 


OU  may  be  sure  there  was  not  much 
trouble  in.  gaining  the  consent  of 
Lucy's  father  to  the  plan  proposed 
for  her  welfare.  He  was  only  too  glad  and 
thankful  to  feel  that  his  motherless  little 
daughter  would  be  placed  where  she  would 
have  a  kind  and  prudent  eye  to  oversee  and 
guide  her ;  and  where  she  would  have  the 
opportunity  of  growing  up  into  a  useful  and 
steady  woman.  This  he  knew  she  could  not 
do  in  the  unsettled  life  she  now  led  on  board 
ship  with  him,  and  he  had  long  been  consider- 
ing what  he  should  do  with  her. 

Lucy,  though  thankful,  was  not  as  much 
pleased,  and  shed  some  bitter  tears  over  the 
prospect.     The  poor  child  wanted  to  learn, 


I02  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

and  was  glad  to  have  a  settled  home  ;  but  she 
dreaded  the  thought  of  parting  from  her  father, 
who  would  only  be  able  to  see  her  at  such 
times  as  his  vessel  should  be  at  the  port  of 
Savannah,  and  who  was  the  only  person  whom 
she  had  to  love  her.  But,  in  a  day  or  two 
after,  when  she  had  seen  Mrs.  Gordon,  and 
heard  her  talk  so  kindly  of  all  the  pleasures 
and  comforts  she  would  find  in  this  promised 
home,  she  became  more  reconciled  to  it,  espe- 
cially as  the  autumn  still  seemed  a  long  way 
off  to  her,  and  she  had  all  the  summer  to  go 
back  and  forth  with  her  father  on  the  sea. 

So  she  told  her  troubles  to  her  doll ;  and  the 
steady,  blue  eyes,  which  never  winked  or  soft- 
ened, brought  comfort  to  her,  and  seemed  to 
give  her  the  assurance  that  she  need  not  be 
parted  from  her,  even  to  go  to  her  new  home. 
If  she  had  not  had  this  beloved  companion,  it 
would  have  gone  much  harder  with  poor  little 
Lucy. 

Our  little  girls  did  not  see  her  again ;  but 
last   autumn,   when    they  were   settled   once 


Belle's  Home,  X03 

more  in  their  city  home,  after  all  their  summer 
wanderings,  Mrs.  Gordon  wrote  to  them,  say- 
ing that  Lucy  was  quite  contented  and  happy 
under  her  care ;  and  that  she  was  a  very  good 
child,  being  trustworthy  and  obedient,  and 
showing  a  great  desire  to  learn. 

So  there  we  will  leave  her,  hoping  that  she 
will,  as  Maggie  says,  "  prophet  by  all  that  is 
done  for  her  and  make  a  useful  and  happy 
woman."  The  doll  went  with  her  ;  and  all  the 
other  toys  and  amusements  which  were  pro- 
vided for  her  never  made  her  tired  or  forget- 
ful of  this,  her  first  love,  or  of  the  dear  little 
girls  who  had  taken  so  much  interest  in  her. 

Our  party  did  not  remain  long  in  Savannah, 
for  the  weather  was  becoming  warm  and  op- 
pressive ;  but  before  they  went  away,  they  all 
spent  a  day  on  Mr.  Powers'  plantation. 

This  was  several  miles  from  the  city ;  and 
starting  in  the  morning,  soon  after  breakfast, 
they  drove  out  in  the  cool  of  the  day.  Their 
way  lay  through  dense  pine  woods  ;  tall,  state- 
ly pines,  with  long,  straight  trunks  ;  shooting 


I04  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

upwards,  without  leaf  or  branch,  for  many  a 
foot,  till  they  neared  their  height,  when  they 
put  forth  their  dark-green  crowns,  which  cast 
such  a  sombre  shade  below.  The  shade  was 
no  objection  on  this  warm  day,  and  a  light 
breeze  was  stirring,  which  was  very  refreshing  ; 
but  it  sounded  rather  mournful  to  Maggie  and 
Bessie,  as  it  moaned  through  the  mighty  stems, 
and  rustled  the  thick,  fragrant  leaves  overhead. 
It  has  a  strange,  peculiar  sound,  the  wind  in 
those  dark,  pine  forests  of  the  South,  —  a  sound 
rather  saddening  to  any  listener. 

Maggie  did  not  like  it  at  all,  and  said  so, 
which  rather  displeased  Belle,  who,  in  her  de- 
light at  returning  to  her  beloved  Southern 
home,  found  every  thing  there  perfect.  How- 
ever, as  they  drove  on,  both  Maggie  and  Bessie 
spied  out  so  many  objects  which  called  forth 
their  surprise  and  admiration,  that  she  was 
presently  consoled,  and  concluded  that  they 
"  liked  her  own  country  pretty  well,  after  all." 

Here  and  there  was  a  magnolia  with  its 
magnificent  cream-white  blossoms,  their  deli- 


Beliefs  Home,  \o\^ 

cious  perfume  mingling  with  the  fragrance  of 
the  pines  ;  there  a  group  of  scarlet  cardinal 
flowers,  or  a  little  pool  bordered  with  bright 
blue  flags  and  spotted  tiger-lilies ;  while 
through  the  deep  stillness  of  the  woods  came 
the  sweet  notes  of  the  blue-jay  and  mocking- 
bird. Once,  as  they  were  passing  over  a 
bridge  which  crossed  a  marsh,  Maggie  called 
the  attention  of  the  others  to  two  turtles,  great 
big  fellows,  larger  than  any  the  children  had 
ever  seen  at  the  North ;  "  swamp  turtles " 
Belle  said  they  were.  They  scuttled  out  of 
the  way  in  their  clumsy  fashion,  diving  out  of 
sight  into  the  mud ;  and  Bessie  said  she 
thought  they  must  be  some  of  the  miclean 
animals  spoken  of  in  the  Bible,  since  they 
liked  to  live  in  such  a  dirty  place. 

The  entrance  to  the  plantation  was  through 
an  avenue  of  magnificent  live-oaks,  some  of 
them  so  large  that  two  or  three  men  could  not 
have  encircled  them  with  their  outstretched 
arms  ;  and  these  splendid  trees  were  studded 
all  over  the  lawn,  spreading  far  and  wide  their 


io6  Bessie  on  her  Travels^ 

branches,  which,  unlike  their  neighbors  the 
pines,  they  sent  out  very  low,  —  so  near  the 
ground  in  fact,  that  even  Bessie  could  reach 
the  gray  Spanish  moss  which  hung  over  them 
in  long  festoons  and  wreaths.  The  children 
had  seen  this  curious  moss  before  in  the  beau- 
tiful old  cemetery  of  Bonaventure,  where  the 
oaks  are  perfectly  clothed  with  it ;  and  Bessie 
had  admired  it  so  much,  that  Maggie  had  taken 
up  the  idea  of  carrying  home  enough  to  make 
"  a  bower  "  for  her  in  their  own  little  room. 
But  she  thought  it  best  to  gain  the  consent  of 
her  father  and  mother  to  this  arrangement ; 
not  only  because  it  was  right,  but  also  because 
nurse  was  rather  apt  to  call  such  things  "  truck 
and  trash,"  and  to  put  them  out  of  the  way  as 
last  as  possible.  If  papa  and  mamma  said  they 
might  have  it,  nurse  might  call  it  what  she 
pleased,  but  she  could  not  throw  it  away. 

Mr.  Powers  stood  awaiting  them  on  the 
steps  of  the  veranda,  for  he  had  been  at  the 
plantation  for  three  or  four  days,  while  Belle 
and  Daphne  had  been  left  in  Mrs.  Bradford's 


Beliefs  Home,  107 

charge  at  the  hotel ;  for  he  did  not  think  it 
best  for  Belle  to  sleep  on  the  plantation  at  that 
time  of  the  year. 

She  shrieked  with  delight  when  she  saw 
him ;  and,  in  her  hurry  to  reach  him,  had 
nearly  thrown  herself  from  Daphne's  lap  un- 
derneath the  carriage- wheels.  There  would 
have  been  an  end  to  the  day's  pleasure  then ; 
but  Daphne's  hand  grasped  her  skirts,  and 
saved  her  from  a  terrible  death. 

As  it  was,  the  whole  party  were  startled ; 
and  her  father's  face  had  lost  its  smile  of  wel- 
come, and  looked  rather  pale  as  he  came  down 
the  steps  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  My  pet !  "  he  said,  "  always  in  too  much 
of  a  hurry.  This  would  have  been  a  sad  meet- 
ing for  papa,  if  you  had  fallen ;  but  a  good  God 
took  care  of  you  for  me." 

Belle  clung  about  his  neck  and  did  not 
speak ;  for  whether  it  were  the  fright,  or  the 
sight  of  her  father,  or  the  return  to  the  old 
home  which  she  had  left  at  such  a  sad  time,  or 
perhaps  all  three,  her  feelings  took  a  sudden 


io8  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

turn,  and  when  Mr.  Powers  had  brought  hia 
friends  in  and  welcomed  them,  and  raised  the 
little  face  to  kiss  it  again,  he  found  it  drowned 
in  tears. 

"  Why !  my  darling,"  he  said,  "  were  you 
so  frightened  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  papa,"  sobbed  the  excitable 
little  thing ;  "  but,  this  is  home  —  only  — 
only  —  mamma  is  not  in  it." 

Tears,  or  something  very  like  them,  came  to 
the  eyes  of  all,  even  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Norris, 
who  had  never  known  Belle's  dead  mother; 
and  Mr.  Powers  turned  hastily  away,  and 
stepped  with  her  out  on  the  veranda. 

"  Only  mamma  was  not  in  it ! "  Ah,  yes  !  that 
was  the  only  that  made  all  the  difference  in  the 
world,  so  that  home  did  not  seem  like  home 
any  longer. 

It  was  some  few  moments  before  either  of 
them  were  composed  enough  to  return  ;  and 
when  Mr.  Powers  came  back  he  was  alone, 
and  told  Bessie  that  Belle  wanted  her  to  go  to 
her. 


Beliefs  Home,  lOo 

Bessie  went  out  upon  the  veranda,  which 
ran  on  all  four  sides  of  the  house,  and  around 
the  corner  she  found  Belle  curled  up  on  a 
settee  where  her  father  had  placed  her.  She 
stretched  out  her  arms  to  Bessie  when  she  saw 
lier,  saying,  — 

'■  Bessie,  I  do  remember  mamma  so  much 
in  my  home,  and  you  are  a  comfit.  You  are 
my  next  best  comfit  to  papa,  ever  since  the 
first  day  you  spoke  to  me  in  school." 

This  was  a  pleasant  thing  for  Bessie  to  hear  ; 
but  she  put  aside  her  own  pleasure  for  the 
present,  and  thought  only  of  being  the  "  com- 
fit "  her  poor  little  friend  called  her.  I  wonder 
if  there  was  any  one  among  all  the  people  who 
knew  her,  who  could  have  said  that  our  dear 
Bessie  was  not  more  or  less  of  a  comfort  to 
them. 

Her  sweet  sympathy  and  gentle  tenderness 
soon  did  Belle  good,  and  Bessie  let  her  talk 
on  about  her  mother  as  long  as  she  would. 

Belle  had  been  very  bright  and  cheerful 
lately,  —  thanks  to  the  friends  with  whom  she 


no  Bessie  07i  her  Travels^ 

had  been  so  much  thrown, —  and  it  was  a  good 
while  since  she  had  had  a  fit  of  longing  for 
her  mother ;  but  the  coming  to  her  home  had 
brought  her  great  loss  back  to  her,  and  just 
now  she  could  think  of  nothing  else. 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  put  my  mamma 
before  she  went  to  heaven  ?  "  said  Belle. 

"  No.     Where  ?  "  answered  Bessie. 

"  Do  you  see  those  high  trees  over  there, 
Bessie  ?  They  put  her  where  little  brother 
and  sister  are,  and  ever  so  many  grandpas  and 
grandmas." 

"  But  they  didn't  put  her  soul  there,"  said 
Bessie. 

"  No,"  said  Belle,  "  'cause  that  was  God's 
part,  and  it  went  to  him.  And  then  she 
couldn't  speak  or  hear  me  or  see  me,  but  was 
all  deaded  away ;  and  so  they  put  the  rest  of 
her  over  there,  and  put  a  great  many  flowers 
over  her.  But  that  was  a  long,  long  while 
ago,  before  I  went  away  to  the  North,  and  I 
didn't  see  where  they  put  mamma  this  ever  so 
long.  Maybe  the  flowers  are  all  faded.  Will 
you  come  and  see,  Bessie  ?  " 


Belle's  Home,  ill 

"  We  must  ask  mamma  or  your  papa  first," 
said  Bessie. 

"  They  would  let  us,"  said  Belle :  "  it's  a 
very  safe  place.  I  used  to  often  go  there  when 
mamma  was  alive,  to  be  by  little  brother  and 
sister,  and  she  is  there  now.  There  couldn't 
any  danger  come  to  us  where  mamma  is : 
could  there,  Bessie  ?  " 

"  No :  I  guess  not,"  said  Bessie.  "  I  s'pose 
mother- angels  take  care  of  their  little  children. 
I'll  go  with  you.  Belle  dear,  if  you're  quite 
sure  your  papa  will  let  us." 

"  I  know  he  would,  Bessie  ;  and  I'd  just  as 
lief  ask  him ;  only  then  Maggie  and  Lily  will 
come  too.  I'd  like  Maggie  to  come,  but  Lily 
laughs  so  much.  I  love  Lily  ;  but  I  don't  want 
any  one  to  laugh  where  my  mamma  is  dead." 

"  No,"  said  Bessie,  with  the  most  caressing 
tenderness  of  tone  and  manner,  "  they  shan't ; 
and  I'll  go,  Belle." 

With  their  arms  about  one  another's  necks, 
the  two  little  things  ran  down  the  piazza  steps, 
and  the  shady  path,  through  which  Belle  led 


112  Bessie  on  her  Travels » 

the  way ;  but  as  tliey  came  near  the  small 
bur jing-ground,  their  steps  grew  slow  and  more 
reverent. 

It  was  an  exquisite  spot.  An  iron  railing 
enclosed  it,  but  the  rails  were  hidden  by  the 
green  vines  which  overran  them,  and  within  it 
was  beautifully  sodded ;  the  green  broken 
here  and  there  by  the  white  marble  monu- 
ments and  slabs  which  marked  the  resting- 
place  of  Belle's  relations.  Flowers  of  the  love- 
liest kinds  were  blossoming  over  and  around 
them,  and  all  showed  the  utmost  care  and  lov- 
ing remembrance.  Over  the  entrance  was  an 
arch,  also  of  white  marble,  and  on  the  stone 
were  cut  the  words,  "  He  giveth  His  beloved 
sleep," 

"  How  sweet  it  is  !  "  exclaimed  Bessie,  struck 
at  onco  with  the  lovely  quiet  and  peace  of  the 
place  ;  and  then  she  looked  up  and  spelled  out 
the  letters  on  the  arch. 

"  Sleep  !  that  was  what  mamma  said  :  it  was 
only  like  a  sleep  if  we  loved  Jesus  and  tried  to 
do  what  He  wanted  us  to,  and  I  think  it  must 


Beliefs  Home.  113 

mean  Him  when  it  says, '  givetli  His  beloved 
sleep.'  What  dear  words !  are  they  not, 
Belle  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Belle,  but  without  paying  much 
attention  to  what  Bessie  was  saying,  for  her 
eye  had  caught  sight  of  a  new  object  in  the 
enclosure. 

"  See  !  "  she  went  on,  catching  Bessie  by  the 
arm :  "  there's  a  stone  there  where  they  put 
mamma  ;  "  and  drawing  Bessie  with  her,  she 
pushed  open  the  light  gate. 

It  swung  easily  back,  for  it  was  unfastened. 
There  were  none  here  to  intrude,  no  one  came 
here  who  would  not  guard  with  the  greatest 
love  and  reverence  the  little  spot  sacred  to 
"  His  beloved," 

"  His  beloved  !  "  For  of  those  who  lay  there, 
not  one  but  had  closed  their  eyes  in  the  full 
faith  that  they  should  open  them  again  upon 
the  brightness  of  His  face.  Truly  that  was 
"  God's  Acre." 

The  "  stone  "  which  had  attracted  Belle's 
attention  was  a  shaft  of  pure  white  marble 

8 


114  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

upon  her  motlier's  grave.  The  centre  had  been 
cut  away  so  as  to  leave  four  small  arches,  one 
on  each  side,  and  beneath  there  was  a  cross, 
with  the  letters  "  I.  H.  S. ; "  before  that  an 
open  Bible,  with  the  words,  "  I  will  not  leave 
you  comfortless." 

The  sculptor  had  done  his  work  perfectly ; 
and  the  snowy  marble  showed  in  beautiful  con- 
trast with  the  dark,  glossy  leaves  of  the  bay 
tree  which  spread  its  arms  above  it. 

"  Papa  put  it  there,  I  know  he  did,"  said 
Belle,  after  she  and  Bessie  had  stood  looking 
at  it  in  silence  for  a  moment  or  two. 

"  Yes :  I  s'pose  he  did,"  said  Bessie :  "  let's 
see  what  these  words  are.  Belle." 

By  standing  on  tiptoe,  the  little  ones  could 
manage  to  see  the  letters  carved  upon  the 
book;  and  Bessie  read  them  out  as  she  had 
done  those  over  the  gateway. 

"  ^  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless,'  "  Belle 
repeated  after  her.     "  Why !  mamma  said  that 
herself  a  little  while  before  she  went  to  heaven 
Maybe  that  was  why  papa  put  it  there." 


Beliefs  Home,  115 

"  And  Jesus  said  it,"  replied  Bessie.  "  It's 
in  the  Bible,  in  a  chapter  I've  heard  very  often. 
Don't  you  remember,  Belle  ?  It  begins,  '  Let 
not  your  heart  be  troubled ; '  and  Jesus  said 
it  Himself.  Perhaps  the  reason  He  told  people 
not  to  be  troubled  was  'cause  He  was  going  to 
promise  to  comfort  them  when  they  had  some- 
thing very  bad  to  bear.  It's  the  best  comfort 
to  know  He  loves  you  and  will  take  you  to 
heaven  to  see  your  mamma  some  day :  isn't  it, 
Belle?" 

"  He  will  if  I'm  good,"  passing  her  little 
hand  slowly  and  caressingly  over  the  marble ; 
**  but  then  I'm  not  always  good." 

"  No,"  said  Bessie,  "  not  always  ;  but  mam> 
ma  said  you  was  not  near  so  spoiled  as  you  used 
to  be.     I  think  you're  pretty  good  now.  Belle." 

"  I  slapped  Daphne's  face  this  morning," 
whispered  Belle,  remorsefully. 

"Oh!  did  you  ?"  said  Bessie.  '' Well,  Belle, 
I  used  to  slap  people  sometimes,  even  when  I 
had  mamma  to  teach  me  better,  and  there  was 
no  excuse  for  me." 


it6  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

"  Bat  my  own  mamma  did  teach  me  better, 
Bessie.  I  slap  .Daphne  pretty  often,  but  she 
never  tells  papa;  and  I  promise  myself  I'll 
never  do  it  again,  and  then  I  just  do." 

"  Did  you  ever  promise  Jesus  and  ask  Him 
to  help  you  not  to  do  it  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  No,"  answered  Belle.  "  I  didn't  think  of 
it.     I  could  do  it  now,  couldn't  I  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Bessie. 

They  knelt  down  together  side  by  side,  and 
Belle  said  in  a  soft  but  steady  voice,  for  her 
tears  had  now  ceased,  — 

"  Dear  Jesus,  I  promise  not  to  slap  Daphne 
any  more,  or  not  to  be  naughty  any  more  if 
I  can  help  it ;  and  you  will  help  me  to  be  good. 
Amen." 

Then  pressing  her  lips  to  the  cold  stone,  as 
if  it  were  the  warm,  living  cheek  she  had  once 
caressed,  she  said  in  a  pleading,  pathetic  whis- 
per, — 

"  Dear  mamma,  your  little  Belle  will  try  to 
be  just  as  good  as  you  would  want  her  to  be  if 
you  were  here  wif  her." 


Beliefs  Home,  117 

Will  any  doubt  that  the  "  mother-angel " 
hoard  and  rejoiced  over  the  simple  promise 
uttered  by  her  little  one's  trusting  lips  ? 

''Do  you  think  it  really  makes  Jesus  glad 
when  I'm  good  ?  "  asked  Belle,  when  they  had 
risen  from  their  knees. 

"  Oh  1  to  be  sure  it  does,"  answered  Bessie. 

"  And  He  did  leave  me  some  comfit :  didn't 
He,  Bessie  ?  He  left  me  papa,  and  He  gave  me 
you  and  Maggie  too ;  and  your  mamma  is  a 
great  coinfit  too." 

"  Mamma's  the  best  comfort  of  anybody," 
said  Bessie. 

"  Oh,  no,  Bessie  !  oh,  no !  Papa  best  —  you 
next." 

Bessie  did  not  contradict  her,  though  she 
thought  it  a  very  strange  opinion  for  Belle  to 
hold,  and  was  not  at  all  convinced  herself. 

"  I  wish  papa  was  here  to  stay  with  me  by 
mamma  a  little  while,"  said  Belle,  presently. 

"  Shall  I  go  ask  him  to  come  ?  "  asked  Bes- 
sie. 

"  Yes,"  said  Belle.  "  Do  you  know  the 
way  ? " 


Ii8  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

"Oh,  yes!  It's  right  up  that  path,  isn't 
it?" 

Then  she  kissed  Belle  and  left  her,  turning 
back  as  she  passed  through  the  gate,  to  look 
at  her  little  playmate  sitting  by  her  motlier's 
grave  and  leaning  her  head  pensively  against 
the  monument.  But  Belle  smiled  as  she  met 
Bessie's  eye,  and  the  little  girl  felt  that  slie 
had  not  been  left  quite  "  comfortless."  Her 
own  heart  was  very  full  of  love  and  sympathy. 

Bessie  ran  up  the  patli  till  she  was  nearly 
half  way  to  the  house,  when  she  was  brought 
to  a  sudden  stand-still  by  what  she  thought  a 
very  alarming  object.  Just  before  her  was  a 
large  black  dog,  broad-chested,  tall,  and  fierce- 
looking,  standing  directly  in  the  path,  and 
seeming  as  though  he  meant  to  dispute  the 
way. 

Bessie's  heart  was  in  her  mouth  and  her 
knees  shook;  but  she  did  not  scream.  She 
looked  at  the  dog  and  he  looked  at  her,  but  he 
did  not  bark  or  growl.  Then  she  found  her 
voice,  and  tried  what  coaxing  would  do. 


Beliefs  Home,  119 

"  Nice  doggie,  nice  little  doggie,"  she  said 
to  the  great  creature.  "  Does  little  doggie 
want  Bessie  to  go  away  ?  Well,  she  will.  But 
then  the  good  little  fellow  mustn't  bark  at 
Bessie  and  frighten  her." 

Bessie  had  an  idea  that  her  seeming  enemy 
could  bite  as  well  as  bark  if  he  saw  fit  occa- 
sion ;  but  she  did  not  think  it  wisest  to  suggest 
it  to  him. 

It  must  have  been  a  hard-hearted  dog,  in- 
deed, which  could  have  resisted  that  insinua- 
ting voice  and  smile,  and  either  bark  or  bite ; 
and  this  one  did  not  seem  inclined  to  do  the 
one  or  the  other  ;  but  then  neither  did  he  seem 
to  intend  to  move  out  of  the  path,  but  stood 
stock  still  gazing  at  his  unwilling  little  com- 
panion. 

Seeing  that  he  appeared  peaceable,  Bessie 
took  courage,  and,  edging  off  upon  the  grass, 
went  a  few  steps  forward.  But  as  she  passed 
the  dog,  he  turned  and  placed  himself  before 
her,  though  still  without  any  show  of  attack- 
ing her. 


I20  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Bessie  was  pretty  well  frightened ;  but  slie 
began  her  wiles  again,  talking  to  him  as  she 
would  have  done  to  Baby  Annie  or  Flossy. 

"  Poor  fellow  I  nice  doggie.  Bessie  wouldn't 
hurt  little  doggie  for  any  thing.  Doggie,  dog- 
gie, doggie  1  He'll  let  Bessie  go  to  the  house, 
won't  he  ?  Don't  he  want  to  go  and  see  Belle 
down  there  ? " 

Now  you  must  not  think  that  Bessie  wanted 
to  save  herself  by  exposing  her  little  friend ; 
for  she  knew  that  this  must  be  Duke,  the  great 
English  blood-hound,  of  which  Belle  had  often 
spoken,  saying  how  loving  and  good  Duke 
was  to  her,  although  he  was  fierce  and  un- 
friendly with  strangers. 

But  no,  all  coaxing  proved  useless :  the 
dog  stood  his  ground  and  would  not  suffer  her 
to  pass,  even  giving  a  low  growl  and  seizing 
the  skirt  of  her  dress  when  she  tried  once 
more  to  do  so. 

Bessie  was  dreadfully  frightened,  and  was 
about  to  call  aloud  for  help,  when  she  saw  Mr. 
Powers  coming  towards  her  from  the  house. 


Beliefs  Home,  121 

As  be  came  down  the  path,  a  great  snake  glided 
from  beneath  some  low  bushes  on  the  other 
side,  passed  swiftly  over  the  narrow  path,  and 
would  have  been  out  of  sight  in  an  instant, 
had  not  the  dog,  suddenly  all  alert,  bounded 
forward,  seized  it  by  the  back  of  the  neck,  and 
giving  it  a  violent  shake,  left  it  lying  dead. 

"  How  is  this,  dear  child  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pow- 
ers, looking  from  the  dog  and  snake  to  the 
child.  "  Old  Ben  told  me  he  had  seen  you  and 
Belle  going  to  the  burying-ground.  Where  is 
Belle  ? '' 

"  Yes,  sir,  we  did,"  answered  Bessie  ;  "and 
Belle  is  there  now,  waiting  for  you  to  come  to 
her  mamma's  grave.  I  was  just  coming  to  tell 
you,  and  that  dog  stopped  me.  He's  a  pretty 
naughty  dog ;  he  wouldn't  let  me  go  on,  and 
he  killed  the  poor  snake  that  did  not  do  a  bit 
of  harm,  but  was  just  running  away  as  fast  as 
he  could." 

"  Duke  knew  he  would  do  harm  if  he  but 
found  the  cliance,  my  child,"  said  Mr.  Powers. 
"  Thai  is  a  very  venomous  snake,  and  the  dog's 


122  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

care  may  have  saved  you  from  being  badly 
bitten.  Good  Duke  !  brave  fellow !  "  and  Mr. 
Powers  patted  the  dog's  head.  "  It  is  years 
and  years  since  we  have  seen  a  snake  of  this 
kind  upon  the  plantation,  and  I  hope  it  may 
be  long  before  we  see  another.  You  and  Belle 
have  each  escaped  a  great  danger  this  morn- 
ing, Bessie.  I  am  glad  too  that  old  Duke  was 
not  bitten." 

Bessie  was  very  grateful  to  Duke  now,  and 
she  too  patted  and  caressed  him.  He  seemed 
to  think  himself,  that  he  had  performed  a  great 
feat,  as  indeed  he  had ;  and  kept  looking  up 
at  his  master  and  thrusting  his  nose  into  his 
hand  as  if  to  call  for  more  thanks.  Bessie's 
attentions  he  received  more  coolly,  though  he 
permitted  them. 

"  Run  up  to  the  house  now,  you  steady  lit- 
tle woman,"  said  Mr.  Powers:  "your  mother 
is  wondering  where  you  can  be,  though  she 
said  you  were  to  be  trusted  not  to  get  into 
mischief.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  such  a 
character,  Bessie." 


BelWs  Home,  123 

Wlien  Duke  saw  that  Bessie  and  his  master 
were  going  in  different  directions,  he  seemed 
to  be  divided  in  his  own  mind  as  to  which  one 
he  had  better  accompany.  But  after  looking 
from  one  to  tlie  other  he  seemed  to  decide  that 
Bessie  needed  his  protection,  and  trotted  grave- 
ly along  by  her  side  till  she  reached  the  house, 
when  he  turned  about  and  raced  after  his 
master. 

Bessie  went  in  and  told  her  story,  but  so 
simply  and  with  so  little  fuss  that  her  mother 
had  no  idea  of  the  danger  she  had  been  in, 
till  Mr.  Powers  came  with  Belle  and  told  how 
she,  as  well  as  Belle,  had  been  mercifully 
preserved  from  harm  that  morning. 

When  Belle  came  back  with  her  father, 
she  was  quite  composed,  and  soon  became 
cheerful  again,  though  she  was  rather  more 
quiet  than  usual  all  the  morning. 

As  soon  as  the  party  were  rested  after  their 
drive,  they  all  went  out  for  a  walk  about  the 
place.  Mr.  Powers'  estate  was  a  rice  planta- 
tion, and  the  children  were  greatly  interested 


124  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

in  going  through  the  mills  and  seeing  how  the 
rice,  so  familiar  to  them  as  an  article  of  food, 
was  prepared  for  the  market.  They  were  par- 
ticularly so,  in  watching  the  husking  of  the 
rice.  The  grain  was  stored  on  the  second 
story  of  the  buildings,  in  great  boxes  or  bins. 
There  was  a  little  sliding-door  in  each  of  these, 
just  above  the  bottom  of  the  bin  ;  and  when 
the  men  were  ready  to  go  to  work,  a  trough 
was  placed  leading  from  that,  through  a  trap- 
door, to  a  hopper  on  the  floor  below.  Then 
the  bin  door  was  opened,  and  the  rice  in  its 
brown  husks  slid  through  the  trough  into  the 
hopper  beneath,  and  from  thence  into  the  mill, 
on  each  side  of  which  stood  a  man  who  turned 
the  arms  of  the  mill.  In  this,  the  outer  husk 
was  stripped  from  the  rice  ;  then  it  passed 
through  another  wide,  covered  trough,  into  the 
sifting  or  winnowing  machine.  This  was  a 
large  box  with  a  wheel  at  the  bottom  which 
turned  the  rice  over  and  over.  As  it  came  to 
the  top,  the  chaff  was  blown  away  by  a  great 
*' four  sided  fan,"  as  Bessie  called  it,  made  of 


Belle's  Home,  125 

four  pieces  of  canvas  stretched  in  different 
directions,  and  fixed  upon  a  roller  which  was 
turned  round  by  a  man,  and  fanned  away  the 
light  husks  broken  from  the  grain  on  its  pas- 
sage through  the  mill.  But  this  was  only  the 
outer  husk ;  and  it  had  to  go  down  a  third 
trough  into  another  mill,  where  the  inner  cov- 
ering was  taken  off;  then  through  a  second 
fanning  machine,  from  which  it  came  out  clean 
and  white ;  and  lastly  into  a  third  building, 
where  it  was  led  into  another  range  of  bins, 
till  it  should  be  necessary  to  put  it  into  the  bags 
and  barrels  in  which  it  was  sent  to  market. 

Maggie,  as  usual,  wanted  to  ^'  help  ;  "  and 
the  good-natured  colored  men  who  were  about 
let  her  try  her  hand  at  just  what  she  chose, 
provided  it  was  safe  for  her.  Indeed,  all  the 
children,  even  Belle,  to  whom  the  amusement 
was  not  new,  were  greatly  pleased  to  pull  up 
the  sliding  panels  of  the  bins,  and  see  the  rice 
come  pouring  down  into  the  mill-hopper,  and 
to  thrust  their  hands  and  arms  into  the  white 
grain,  and  shovel  it  into  the  bags.     So  enter- 


126  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

tained  were  they  with  this  business,  that  the 
older  people  walked  on  when  they  had  satisfied 
their  own  curiosity,  leaving  the  children  in  the 
care  of  old  Cato,  who  promised  to  see  that  they 
came  to  no  harm. 

"  We've  done  a  whole  lot  of  work,  Mr.  Pow- 
ers," said  Maggie,  when  they  were  called  back 
to  the  house  to  dinner.  "  I  think  your  men 
must  be  pretty  glad  we  came." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lily :  "  we've  most  filled  two 
bags  and  a  barrel." 

"  And  we  didn't  spill  very  much  either," 
said  Bessie,  who  was  at  that  moment  laboring 
away  with  a  wooden  shovel,  on  which  she  con- 
trived to  take  up  about  two  table-spoonsful  of 
rice. 

"Capital!"  said  Mr.  Powers:  "you've 
earned  your  dinner  to-day,  have  you  not  ?  " 

Whether  the  dinners  were  fairly  earned  or  no, 
the  exercise  had  given  them  all  good  appetites, 
and  they  were  not  sorry  to  go  in  and  take  tiieir 
seats  at  the  well-furnished  table. 


^^sr^S^i 


r^-r-^?r^^ 


VL 


LETTERS, 


AGGIE  had  seized  the  opportunity 
when  Bessie  was  not  near,  to  ask 
Mr.  Powers  for  the  Spanish  moss. 

"  Mr.  Powers,"  she  said,  "  is  not  that  moss 
private  moss  ?  " 

"  Private  moss  ?  How  private,  Maggie  ?  " 
said  the  gentleman. 

"  I  mean  is  it  not  your  own  to  do  what  you 
like  with  ? 

"  Certainly :  if  growing  upon  my  trees  and 
on  my  groimds  can  make  it  mine,  it  is, 
dear  ?  " 

"  Then  could  you  let  me  have  some  of  it, 
quite  a  good  deal  ?  "  said  Maggie,  to  whom 
it  had  been  a  great  effort  to  ask  this ;  but 


128  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

the  thought  of  pleasing  Bessie  upheld  her 
courage. 

"  Oh  !  to  be  sure ;  a  whole  wagon-load  if 
you  want  it,"  said  Mr.  Powers,  smiling,  and 
without  the  least  idea  that  Maggie  would  take 
bis  words  almost  literally. 

The  next  thing  was  to  ask  mamma's  con- 
sent to  carry  it  home,  and  this  also  was  ob- 
tained without  difficulty  ;  Mrs.  Bradford  hav- 
ing no  idea  of  the  extent  of  Maggie's  ideas, 
and  supposing  she  only  wanted  a  small  quan- 
tity as  a  curiosity. 

Accordingly,  Maggie  took  the  other  children 
into  her  confidence  as  soon  as  they  were  all 
sent  out  again  to  play  under  Daphne's  care. 
Bessie  was  delighted  with  the  plan,  and  kissed 
and  thanked  her  many  times ;  and  the  other 
two  were  quite  ready  to  lend  their  aid. 

So  they  all  set  to  work  to  gather  the  moss, 
Daphne,  too,  giving  a  helping  hand,  at  her 
little  lady's  request ;  though  as  she  saw  the 
great  pile  they  heaped  together,  she  was  more 
than  doubtful  as  to  the  use  of  such  exertion. 


Letters,  129 

To  gather  it  might  be  allowed,  —  it  would 
never  be  missed  from  the  trees, —  but  to  carry 
it  home  was  another  thing. 

But  she  let  them  take  their  own  way  ;  for 
Bhe  could  never  bear  to  refuse  Belle  any 
thing,  least  of  all  to-day,  when  Belle  had 
come  and  put  her  arms  around  her  neck, 
and  laid  her  soft  fair  cheek  against  her  old 
nurse's  dark  one ;  telling  her  she  was  "  sorry 
for  every  time  she  had  slapped  her ;  but  she 
would  never  do  it  again,  for  Jesus  was  going 
to  help  her,  and  mamma  would  ask  Him  to, 
she  was  sure." 

So  if  Belle  had  asked  to  dance  upon 
Daphne's  head,  or  do  any  other  extraordinary 
or  unheard-of  thing,  I  think  the  old  woman 
would  have  contrived  in  some  way  to  grant 
her  darling's  wish  ;  and  she  meekly  stood  pul- 
ling off  the  long,  gray,  pendant  mosses,  and 
heaping  them  in  the  little,  eager,  out-stretched 
arms  which  returned  to  her  again  and  again. 

Great  was  the  amazement  of  the  grown 
people  to  see  the  procession  which  appeared, 
9 


130  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

when  at  last  the  carriages  came  to  the  dooi 
to  take  them  back  to  the  city,  and  the  chil- 
dren were  called  to  make  ready. 

First  came  a  negro  lad  whom  Maggie  and 
Belle  had  pressed  into  the  service,  showing 
his  two  rows  of  white  teeth,  and  rolling  up 
his  eyes  with  enjoyment  of  the  fun ;  while 
he  pushed  before  him  a  small  hand-cart  filled 
with  the  precious  material,  which  was  to 
make  such  a  lovely  "  Bessie's  Bower  "  of  the 
familiar  little  room  far  away  at  the  North  ; 
next  Bessie  and  Belle  trotting  along,  half 
hidden  beneath  the  moss  which  Maggie  had 
heaped  in  their  arms  and  around  their  necks ; 
then  followed  Maggie  herself,  and  Lily,  toil- 
ing away  at  a  large  wheelbarrow  piled  with 
the  spoil;  old  Daphne  bringing  up  the  rear, 
also  carrying  her  share  and  looking  rather 
sheepish. 

"  Here's  '  Birnam  wood  come  to  Dunsi- 
nane,'  "  said  Mr.  Bradford,  laughing,  as  he  first 
perceived  the  approaching  show.  "  What  are 
the  little  ones  about  ?     Some  freak  of  Mag- 


Letters.  131 

gie's,  doubtless.  What  a  busy,  contriving 
little  head  it  is.  What  is  all  that  for,  Mag 
gie  ?  "  as  the  children  came  within  hearing. 

"  To  take  home  to  New  York  to  make  a 
bower  for  Bessie  in  our  room,  papa.  Mamma 
gave  us  leave,  and  Mr.  Powers  said  we  might 
take  all  we  wanted,"  answered  Maggie,  not  in 
the  least  doubting  that  she  was  quite  secure 
with  both  these  safe-guards. 

"  Dearest  child  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bradford  when 
she  could  speak  for  laughing.  "  I  never  sup- 
posed you  had  any  idea  of  taking  such  a 
quantity." 

"  I  told  you  I  wanted  quite  a  good  deal, 
mamma,"  answered  Maggie,  beginning  to 
quake  for  the  success  of  her  plan,  when  she 
saw  how  astonished  and  amused  the  grown 
people  were. 

Poor  Maggie !  So  many  of  her  fine  plans 
had  come  to  grief  lately,  and  still  she  must 
always  be  forming  new  ones. 

"  And  how  do  you  propose  carrying  all  this 
home,  Maggie  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Bradford. 


132  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  Oh !  Belle  says  there  are  boxes  under  all 
the  seats  of  the  carriage,  papa;  and  we  can 
carry  it  to  the  hotel  in  these.  And  then  I 
thought  maybe  you  could  find  some  way  to 
send  it  home  in  the  steamer,  when  Mr.  Powers 
sends  the  sweet  potatoes  and  things  to  grand- 
mamma." 

"  And  if  there's  too  much  to  go  into  the 
carriage  boxes,  we  have  a  great  many  baskets, 
and  we  will  lend  Maggie  some,"  said  Belle. 

"  And  we  are  all  going  to  carry  some  on 
our  laps,  'cause  we  are  anxious  for  Bessie  to 
have  her  bower,"  said  Lily. 

"  I'd  like  it  very  much,  mamma,"  pleaded 
Bessie,  last  of  all. 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford, 
"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you  ;  but  it  would 
be  impossible  to  carry  all  that  moss  home. 
Not  the  half  of  it  could  go  in  the  carriage, 
even  if  we  all  made  ourselves  uncomfortable 
for  the  sake  of  carrying  it ;  and  you  would 
soon  grow  tired  of  such  a  bower." 

"  But  it  is  useful   as  well  as  ornamental, 


Inciters,  133 

mamma,"  said  Maggie,  with  an  air  as  if  this 
quite  settled  the  matter  in  her  favor ;  "for 
Belle  says  the  poor  people  here  make  beds 
of  it,  and  if  we  ever  do  grow  tired  of  it  we 
could  give  it  to  some  poor  person,  and  they 
might  be  very  glad  of  it." 

"  And  I  never  will  be  tired  of  it,  mamma, 
even  when  I'm  grown  up,  'cause  Maggie  made 
it,"  said  Bessie. 

"  My  darlings,"  said  mamma,  "  it  is  im- 
possible. You  may  carry  home  a  basket  full 
if  you  will,  but  I  could  not  allow  your  room 
to  be  filled  with  it,  and  it  would  be  too  much 
trouble  to  pack  such  a  quantity,  and  send  it 
to  New  York.  You  must  rest  content  with 
a  little,  dear  Maggie.  There  are  a  great 
many  reasons  why  your  plan  will  not  do, 
though  it  was  kind  in  you  to  think  of  pleasing 
Bessie ;  but  we  will  find  some  other  way  of 
doing  that." 

Maggie's  disappointment  was  very  great,  as 
was  that  of  all  the  little  girls;  but  when 
mamma  said  a  thing,  it  was  to  be ;  and  Mag- 


X34  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

gie  knew  she  would  never  deprive  Chein  of 
any  pleasure  that  was  best  for  them  to  have. 
So  she  tried  to  bear  it  as  cheerfully  as  she 
might,  though  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes, 
and  she  gave  a  sigh  which  seemed  to  come 
from  her  very  shoes,  as  she  dropped  the  arm 
of  the  wheelbarrow. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  would  have  to  call  your 
room  the  '  Spider's  Bower,'  if  you  decked  it 
with  that  moss,  Maggie,"  said  Mr.  Powers  ; 
"  for  those  insects  are  very  fond  of  it,  and  will 
gather  where  it  is." 

"  Ugh  !  "  said  Maggie  ;  and  the  Spanish 
moss  at  once  lost  half  its  charm  for  her,  for 
Bhe  had  a  great  dislike  to  spiders. 

Seeing  that  she  bore  her  disappointment  so 
well,  Mr.  Bradford  took  an  opportunity  of 
telling  Maggie  a  secret,  which  went  a  great 
way  towards  consoling  her.  But  she  had 
some  time  to  wait  before  this  secret  bore 
fruit;  and  as  we  are  not  going  back  with 
Maggie  and  Bessie  to  their  city  home,  per- 
haps you  would  like  to  know  what  it  was. 


Letters,  135 

In  the  autumn  when  their  travels  were 
ended,  and  they  reached  home,  where  a  great 
deal  of  papering  and  painting  had  been  done 
during  their  absence,  they  found  their  own 
little  room  decked  forth  with  the  most  en- 
chanting wall-paper  that  ever  was  seen.  On 
a  pearl-colored  ground  ran  a  vine  of  green 
leaves,  and  bright  berries,  and  here  and  there, 
perched  upon  the  stems,  or  hovering  over  and 
pecking  at  the  berries,  were  the  most  brilliant 
colored  birds.  Never  was  seen  a  prettier 
paper,  or  one  more  suited  to  a  little  girls' 
room;  and  both  Maggie  and  Bessie  were 
quite  satisfied  with  such  a  "bower"  as  it 
made  of  their  cosey  little  nook;  and  the 
Spanish  moss,  well  beaten  and  shaken,  to  de- 
stroy all  spiders  who  might  have  found  a  re- 
treat therein,  was  consigned  to  the  boys'  play- 
room in  the  top  story  of  the  house.  Though 
by  that  time  it  had  lost  its  first  novelty  and 
charm,  both  Maggie  and  Bessie  still  had  a 
clinging  to  it,  as  a  memento  of  their  pleasant 
visit  to  Belle's  beautiful  Southern  home. 


136  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

Maggie  was  still  farther  consoled  that  even-, 
ing  when  they  reached  the  city,  by  finding  two 
letters  awaiting  her,  and  one  for  Bessie.  Mag- 
gie's were  from  Uncle  Ruthven  and  Fred,  and 
Bessie's  was  from  Harry. 

You  shall  have  them  all.  Uncle  Ruthven 
says,— 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  dear  little  Maggie,  how 
much  we  all  miss  you  and  darling  Princess. 
I  do  not  like  to  go  to  your  house  and  find  no 
smiling  faces  looking  out  of  the  window,  or 
running  to  the  front  door,  or  head  of  the  stairs 
when  Uncle  Ruthven  comes.  So  I  do  not  go 
very  often ;  only  now  and  then  to  see  that  all 
is  going  right  during  your  absence.  I  hear 
nothing  from  the  William  Tells  and  Rip  Yan 
Winkles,  and  therefore  conclude  they  are  still 
enjoying  their  long  nap. 

"  Our  house  is  quite  gay,  however,  what  with 
the  three  boys,  Flossy,  and  Marygold,  all  of 
whom  are  flourishing. 

"  Flossy  was  very  mopish  for  a  day  or  two 
after  you  left ;  and  kept  himself  hidden  under 


Letters.  137 

sofas  and  behind  curtains,  in  a  most  melan* 
choly  manner,  refusing  to  play,  and  eating 
very  little.  He  is  in  better  spirits  now,  how- 
ever, though  not  as  frisky  as  usual ;  and  Harry 
and  Fred  take  him  out  every  day  for  a  walk ; 
bat  when  they  come  towards  home,  he  always 
insists  on  turning  into  your  street ;  and  when 
they  take  him  up  and  bring  him  to  our  house, 
he  falls  into  low  spirits  again,  and  retires  into 
private  life  until  the  next  meal-time. 

"  Marygold  is  well,  and  sings  away  as  merrily 
as  he  did  in  your  own  room  at  home.  Aunt 
Annie  wanted  to  put  him  in  the  conservatory 
with  the  other  birds,  but  grandmamma  said, 
no :  he  must  hang  in  the  bow-window  of  her 
own  sitting-room ;  for  since  she  could  not 
have  you,  she  must  have  something  which  be- 
longed to  you  about  her.'  So  there  he  swings 
and  sings,  reminding  us  constantly  of  our 
Maggie  and  Bessie  so  far  away. 

"  As  for  Frankie,  he  is  as  mischievous  and 
roguish  as  ever,  and  pretty  saucy  into  the  bar- 
gain.    He  seems  very  much  afraid  that  grand- 


138  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

mamma  will  think  slie  is  to  take  his  mamma's 
place  altogether  ;  and  every  morning  when  he 
comes  down  to  breakfast,  enters  the  room 
with,  — 

"  '  Damma,  I'll  stay  wis  00,  and  mind  00  des 
dis  one  more  day.  Den  I  do  back  my  mam- 
ma's house  and  mind  her.' 

"  If  grandmamma  tells  him  to  do  or  not  to 
do  any  thing,  he  says  :  '  Yes,  I'll  mind  00  dis 
once  ;  but  oo're  not  my  mamma.' 

"  '  But  she  is  my  mamma,  and  I  make  all  lit- 
tle boys  mind  her,'  I  said  to  him  this  morning. 

"  He  looked  gravely  at  me  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said,  '  Den  be  a  dood  boy  ouself,  and 
den  I  will  see  'bout  it.' 

"  The  rogue  gave  us  a  good  fright  yester- 
day. I  was  writing  letters  in  the  library, 
when  he  came  in,  and  asked  if  he  might  stay 
with  me.  I  gave  him  leave,  provided  he  was 
quiet ;  and  for  a  wonder,  he  was  so  ;  standing 
for  some  time  looking  out  of  the  window,  till 
he  saw  a  poor  drunken  man  go  by,  when  he 
turned  to  me  and  said,  — 


Letters,  139 

"  *  When  tipseys  walk,  they  run.' 
"  After  that  he  came  down,  and  I  gave  him 
the  great  book  of  animals  you  know  so  well, 
with  which  he  amused  himself  for  some  time, 
telling  the  animals  about  the  '  poor  tipseys.' 
He  was  very  sweet  and  good,  and  being  much 
engaged  with  my  letters,  I  did  not  pay  much 
attention  to  him.  But,  after  a  time,  I  looked 
around  to  see  if  he  was  in  mischief,  and  he 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

The  book  lay  open  on  the  floor,  and  one  or 
two  toys  beside  it,  but  no  Frankie.  The  door 
stood  open,  and  thinking  he  must  have  slipped 
out,  I  went  in  search  of  him.  He  was  not  to 
be  found.  Grandmamma,  your  two  aunts,  and 
all  the  servants  were  soon  alarmed,  and  joined 
in  the  search,  but  all  in  vain  ;  and  we  were 
just  about  sending  to  mamma's  house,  to  see 
if  he  had  run  away  there,  when  Aunt  Bessie 
saw  a  little  fat  hand  peeping  out  of  the  almost 
closed  door  of  one  of  the  bookcases.  She  ran 
and  pulled  it  open,  and  there  lay  our  lost  boy, 
fast  asleep.    He  had  crept  in  among  the  papers 


140  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

and  pamphlets,  and,  drawing  the  door  nearly 
to,  had  fallen  asleep  without  meaning  to,  in 
his  quiet  nook.  He  woke  to  find  us  all  look- 
ing at  him,  and  was  very  angry  at  himself 
for  going  to  sleep ;  exclaiming,  '- 1  des  b'lieve 
I  went  to  seep,  and  I  tates  no  more  naps  in 
de  daytime.    I  'samed  of  myself.' 

"  Harry  and  Fred  are  going  to  write  to  you, 
so  I  will  leave  them  to  speak  for  themselves. 
We  are  all  well  here,  and  last  evening  had  the 
great  pleasure  of  reading  the  letters  you  and 
Bessie  wrote  to  the  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Rush, 
and  which  they  kindly  brought  around  to  us. 

"  Write  to  me  soon,  and  tell  all  your  adven- 
tures to  your  affectionate  uncle, 

"RuTHVEN  Stanton." 

Harry's  letter  to  Bessie  came  next,  and  ran 
thus :  — 

"Precious  Pet  Princess,  —  "It  seems  to 
me  as  if  it  were  two  months  instead  of  two 
weeks  since  you  went  away,  and  I  can't  tell 


Letters,  141 

you  how  I  want  to  see  you.  But  it  is  all 
right,  for  I  know  you  are  having  first-rate 
times,  and  dear  mamma  is  getting  ever  so 
much  good.  We're  not  having  such  a  bad 
time  either,  though  it's  not  like  having  you  all 
home.  Uncle  Ruthven  is  a  first-rate  fellow  to 
stay  with,  I  can  tell  you,  and  when  we  have 
finished  our  lessons,  he  always  has  some  fun 
on  hand  for  us.  So  we  don't  have  time  to 
feel  very  lonely.  But  I  am  glad  for  your  sakes 
that  you  and  Mag  were  not  left  behind,  for 
you  would  have  felt  worse  about  it  than  Fred 
and  I  do. 

"  Last  Saturday  we  all  went  to  Riverside,  we 
boys  on  our  ponies,  of  course,  and  had  a  fa- 
mous day.  Uncle  John  has  a  new  boat,  and 
he  and  Uncle  Ruthven  rowed  us  across  the 
river,  —  they  let  Fred  and  me  take  an  oar  by 
turns,  too,  —  and  we  went  up  the  Palisades. 
Isn't  there  a  splendid  view  up  there,  though  ? 
You  can  see  ever  and  ever  so  far.  There 
were  lots  of  Bob  Whites  about,  and  we  heard 
them  all  round  us,  and  we  came  upon  two  fel- 


142  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

lows  with  dogs  and  guns  hunting  them.  1 
hope  they  didn't  have  much  luck,  the  old 
rascals  ! 

"  Haven't  we  had  a  time  this  afternoon  ? 
I  don't  know  just  how  it  happened,  but  I  think 
Master  Marygold  must  have  opened  tlie  door 
of  his  cage  himself,  —  for  we  have  seen  him 
pecking  away  at  the  catch  several  times  lately ; 
and  Uncle  Ruthven,  only  this  morning,  told 
Jane  to  twist  a  piece  of  wire  round  it  when 
she  cleaned  the  cage.  But  Jane  forgot  it,  and 
so  this  afternoon  Frankie  came  running  in  say- 
ing, '  Marydold's  few  away ; '  and  sure  enough 
the  cage  was  empty  and  no  Marygold  to  be 
seen.  But  after  awhile  we  heard  a  saucy 
'  cheep,'  and  there,  on  the  top  of  grandpapa's 
picture,  sat  my  gentleman  as  independent  as 
you  please  ;  and,  before  we  had  time  to  shut  the 
window,  out  he  flew  into  the  yard.  Weren't 
we  in  a  way  though,  thinking  what  you  and 
Maggie  would  say  to  come  home  and  find  him 
lost.  He  hopped  around  for  a  while,  flying 
ofi"  every  time  any  one  went  near  him,  and  at 


Letters,  143 

last  flew  clear  away  over  the  neighbors'  gar- 
dens, and  we  gave  him  up  for  lost. 

"  Grandmamma  put  his  cage  outside,  hoping 
he  would  grow  homesick  and  come  back. 
And  sure  enough  ;  for  she  was  taking  a  nap 
in  her  bow-window  about  sunset,  when  she 
was  waked  by  a  *  cheep,  cheep,'  and  there 
was  Marjgold  hopping  about  on  her  work- 
table,  and  asking  pardon  for  his  naughtiness 
as  plainly  as  any  bird  could.  She  brought  his 
cage,  and  in  he  popped,  glad  enough  to  be  at 
home.  So  he's  all  safe  once  more,  and  his 
cage  made  secure,  so  he  can't  try  that  dodge 
again. 

"  You  know  Colonel  Rush  has  taken  a  house 
at  Newport  for  the  summer,  and  he  wants  us 
all  to  come  there  when  we  get  through  with 
our  other  wanderings.  Won't  it  be  jolly  ? 
Then  you  know  we  are  to  spend-  October  at 
dear,  old  Chalecoo  ;  so  you  will  have  change 
enough  for  one  six  months.  What  travelled 
young  ladies  you  and  Maggie  will  be  ! 

"  I  think  I  have  written  the  most  correct 


144  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

and  proper  letter  in  the  world,  and  hope  your 
dear  little  highness  will  not  find  any '  unproper 
impressions,'  as  you  once  said  when  Fred  used 
some  slang  word ;  and  that  it  will  altogether 
suit  your  notions.  Lots  of  love  and  kisses  to 
all  from 

"  Your  loving  brother, 

"  Harry." 

Here  is  Fred's  letter  to  Maggie. 

"  Dear  old  Midget,  —  Don't  I  wish  you 
were  here  that  I  might  give  you  a  good  squeeze 
and  hear  you  call  out,  '  0  Fred !  you  are 
cur-r-rushing  me  ! '  I'll  play  the  bear  in  the 
matter  of  hugs,  when  I  do  get  you  back,  —  that 
is  certain.  By  the  way,  there's  a  mean  chap 
leading  a  poor,  old,  black  bear  about  the 
streets  here,  making  him  dance,  and  scrape  a 
fiddle,  and  other  jigs  of  that  kind.  It  is  not 
a  bit  of  fun  to  see  the  poor,  poky,  old  thing 
perform,  and  he  must  have  been  beaten  ever 
BO  much  before  he  could  be  taught.     You  can 


Letters,  145 

8ee  that  by  the  way  he  is  frightened  when  his 
master  lifts  his  stick.  It's  a  mean  shame,  so 
it  is.     Don't  you  say  so,  Mag  ? 

''  What  jolly  times  you  are  having  !  so  are 
we  for  the  matter  of  that.  Uncle  Ruthven  is  a 
regular  brick,  —  though  I  always  knew  that, — 
and  so  are  grandmamma  and  the  colonel,  and 
all  the  rest.  School  breaks  up  the  twentieth  of 
June,  and  then,  hurrah  !  for  the  country.  Un- 
cle John  has  invited  Tom  Norris  to  go  with  us 
to  Riverside,  and  stay  all  the  time  that  we  stay. 
First-rate  in  him,  wasn't  it  ?  Tom  is  the  jol- 
liest  good  boy  I  ever  saw;  you  never  catch 
him  in  the  least  thing  that  isn't  just  up  to  the 
right,  and  yet  he's  the  best  company  and  mer- 
riest fellow  in  the  world.  He  keeps  me  out 
of  a  heap  of  mischief,  many  a  time,  dear,  old 
chap !  that's  so,  I  know.  Dear,  old,  steady- 
going  Hal !  he  often  wonders  at  my  tantrums, 
I  know  ;  but  he's  good  too,  and  it  is  awful 
hard  work  to  keep  out  of  scrapes  in  school 
when  you've  a  quick  temper  like  mine,  and 
not  too  much  thought.  I'll  tell  you  a  secret, 
10 


146  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Mag :  I  believe  it  has  helped  me  a  good  deal 
to  see  you  and  Queen  Bess  take  so  much  pains 
to  cure  yourselves  of  those  two  very  faults,  — 
you,  with  your  carelessness,  and  Bessie,  with 
her  passionate  temper.  I  thought  it  was  a 
shame  if  you  two  little  girls  did  it,  that  a  great 
fellow  like  me  shouldn't.  And  for  that  reason 
I'm  going  to  let  you  tell  dear  mamma  some 
thing  that  will  make  her  dear  eyes  dance. 
Mr.  Peters  called  me  to  him  this  morning,  — 
and  I  thought  for  sure  I  must  be  in  some  row, 
though  I  didn't  see  what,  —  and  he  said  he 
wanted  to  tell  me  that  no  boy  in  the  school 
had  improved  in  character,  or  taken  so  much 
pains  with  his  faults,  as  I  had  during  the  last 
year  I  don't  want  to  be  puffed  up,  but  didn't 
I  feel  some  pumpkins  ;  but  I  could  most  have 
cried  tliat  mamma  wasn't  home  for  me  to  tell 
the  good  news  to.  However,  when  I  went 
home,  there  sat  grandmamma,  the  dear,  pre- 
cious, old  soul,  so  sweet  and  good  and  loving ; 
so  I  just  pitched  into  her  and  gave  her  the 
news,  and  a  tight  squeeze  into  the  bargain. 


Letters,  147 

She  was  as  pleased  as  could  be,  but  then  she. 
isn't  mamma;  so  just  you  tell  the  darling 
mother,  and  bid  her  shut  her  eyes,  and  do  you 
give  her  a  good  choke  for  me,  just  as  I  do, 
Ducky-Daddies  !  and  see  if  she  don't  gasp  out, 
'  Oh,  my  dear  boy  ! '  and  you  write  it  to  me, 
Mag.  And  tell  papa,  Mr.  Peters  told  me  if  I 
turned  out  such  a  man  as  my  father,  —  a  true 
Christian,  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  a  thorough 
scholar,  —  no  one  could  ask  more  for  me.Jf  1 
never  expect  to  be  all  that,  but  it's  something 
to  have  one's  father  spoken  of  that  way,  and, 
Mag,  do  you  believe,  I  just  bawled.  And  old 
Peters — I'll  never  call  him  that  again  if  I  re- 
member, only  it  comes  so  handy  —  asked  me 
to  go  of  a  little  errand  for  him.  I  knew  that 
it  was  just  that  he  knew  I  didn't  want  to  go 
back,  to  the  school-room  with  red  eyes,  and  I 
was  all  right  again  before  I  came  back.  He's 
a  jolly  old  soul,  if  he  is  strict.  But  I  just  tell 
you,  you  and  her  royal  highness  can  take  some 
of  the  credit  to  yourselves  ;  for  I  know  you  have 
helped  me  without  meaning  it.     And  Uncle 


148  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Ruthven  is  as  pleased  as  any  thing,  and  ho 
said  he  had  seen  it  himself,  and  he  had  meant 
to  give  me  a  handsome  pony  for  taking  pains 
with  myself;  but  as  papa  had  given  me  one 
when  he  gave  Hal  a  watch  just  before  you 
went  away,  he  would  let  me  say  what  the 
present  should  be. 

"  And  so,  Midget,  I  told  him  I  should  like 
him  to  give  you  and  Bess  the  pony  between 
you ;  and  he  said  I  had  better  take  a  couple 
of  days  to  think  it  over,  and  he  would  give 
me  leave  to  change  my  mind.  I  suppose  he 
thinks  I'll  slink  out  of  it ;  but  I  shan't,  so  you 
two  may  just  count  on  a  pony  of  your  own. 
I  guess  there'll  be  a  side-saddle  too,  for  Uncle 
Ruth  don't  do  things  by  halves.  I'm  awfully 
sleepy,  and  anybody  but  you  would  be  tired  of 
this  long  letter. 

"  Your  loving  brother, 

"  Feedbrick  Talbot  Bradford,  Esq." 

Maggie  answered  her  Uncle  Ruthven's  let- 
ter the  very  next  morning  in  these  words  :  ^ 


Letters,  149 

"  Dear  Uncle  Ruthven,  —  Whenever  I 
think  of  the  pleasure  of  writing  to  my  absent 
friends  wlio  are  away  from  me  in  distant  lands 
I  am  always  very  thankful  that  I  am  not  a 
quadrewped  or  other  animal  which  has  only 
legs  and  no  arms  to  write  with.  And  if  it  had, 
no  brains  or  ideas,  but  only  instinct  which  is 
not  enough  to  write  with.  So  I  thank  God  He 
gave  me  a  sencible  soul  which  thinks,  and 
arms  and  also  pen,  ink,  and  paper.  And  also 
pencils  for  Bessie  has  to  print  with  them,  and 
also  friends  which  we  can  write  to,  for  if  I  was 
an  orfun  and  had  no  friends  I  would  be  badly  of 
and  very  lonesome  and  my  ideas  of  no  use. 
So  I  think  every  one  ought  to  be  very  grateful 
for  these  things  (if  they  have  them)  and  if 
they  have  not  let  them  sa.y  God  knows  best ; 
and  I  think  it  is  the  duty  of  the  human  race 
to  make  use  of  these  things  and  to  write  long 
letters  to  all  their  friends,  for  it  is  such  a 
pleasure  to  have  letters  and  to  answer  them. 
And  1  am  going  to  write  you  the  longest  letter 
I  ever  wrote  in  my  life,  because   the   Biblo 


150  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

says,  '  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should 
do  unto  you,  do  ye  also  unto  them.' 

"  But,  dear  Uncle  Ruthven,  we  have  had 
no  adventures  to  tell  you  about.  I  mean  redi 
real  adventures ;  except  only  one  which  was 
most  terrible  to  hear  and  was  that  Bessie  met 
a  snake  that  was  poisonous  and  nearly  bit  her, 
but  a  good  dog  of  Mr.  Powrs  would  not  let 
her  go  on,  and  so  she  did  not  come  in  the  way 
of  the  snake  which  was  a  wonderful  blessing 
or  she  might  have  died.  And  then  I  would 
have  been  like  the  king  Miss  Ashton  told  us 
about,  whose  son  was  drowned  and  he  never 
smiled  again  nor  would  I  if  my  Bessie  came 
to  such  a  sad  end  but  would  be  unhappy  all 
the  days  of  my  existence  and  never  laugh  at 
the  funniest  thing  that  could  happen.  And  I 
pray  our  Father  in  Heaven  that  my  Bessie  will 
not  die  while  I  am  alive  even  to  go  to  Heaven 
for  I  would  miss  her  so  very,  very  much.  But 
I  will  not  write  any  more  of  this  most  unhappy 
thing  or  else  my  beloved  uncle  you  will  say 
'  what  a  sad,  stupid  letter  Maggie  has  written 


Letters,  151 

to  me,'  and  I  would  not  wish  any  one  to  take 
the  liberty  of  saying  such  a  thing  about  me. 

"  Belle's  home  which  is  named  Oakdale  is 
a  place  most  beautiful  to  behold  with  such 
large  oak  trees  that  make  the  most  pleasant  of 
shades  and  magnolias  and  vines  of  jessamine 
and  other  sweet  smells  most  delicious  to  the 
nose.  I  do  wish  there  was  a  nicer  name  to 
call  a  nose,  it  don't  sound  nice  in  a  letter. 
And  such  lots  and  heaps  of  rice,  enough  for  a 
million  dinner  and  breakfasts  I  should  think 
but  I  hope  I  shall  never  be  in  the  necessity  to 
eat  it  for  I  hate  rice.  But  Bessie  likes  it  very 
much  so  I  am  glad  it  grows  for  her  and  others. 
And  we  had  such  fun  playing  with  it  and  work- 
ing too  for  we  helped  the  men  a  great  deal. 
Now  you  need  not  laugh  Uncle  Ruthven  nor 
the  boys  either  if  you  let  them  read  this  letter, 
for  the  men  said  we  did  and  if  you  had  seen 
the  great  bag  we  filled  you  would  know  it.  It 
was  real  funny  to  see  the  rice  run  down  the 
wooden  gutters  into  the  ho])pers.  Isn't  that 
a  queer  name  ? 


152  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  Papa  said  such  a  funny  thing.  He  said 
he  knew  a  hopper  that  would  not  be  of  much 
use  in  that  mill  because  it  always  shut  its 
mouth  whenever  any  rice  came  near  it,  and  he 
meant  me.  It  made  us  all  laugh  so.  The 
next  day  after  to-morrow  we  are  going  to  take 
adieu  of  Savannah  and  all  the  kind  people  we 
have  come  to  know ;  and  of  Miss  Adams  and 
the  doctor ;  and  most  of  all  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Norris  and  Lily.  Lily  cries  about  it  and 
wants  to  stay  with  us  but  her  parents  have  to 
stay  in  this  place  for  a  short  time  and  to  go 
home  by  the  steamer,  and  I  am  glad  and  thank- 
ful such  is  not  my  fate  to  be  seasick  again. 
Oh !  Uncle  Ruthven  !  it  is  awful !  and  you 
can't  help  it  if  you  make  up  your  mind  ever 
so  much.  But  we  go  by  land  which  is  much 
better  than  the  sea  to  travel  on  and  shall  visit 
many  places  and  see  many  surprising  things 
which  I  shall  advertise  you  of  when  I  know 
them  myself. 

"  Bessie  and  I  think  we  never  heard  of  any 
thing  so  kind  and  generous  as  Fred  to  say  he 


Letters,  153 

wanted  you  to  give  us  a  pony  for  liis  present 
and  never  no  never  again  will  I  say  Fred 
teases,  no  not  if  be  plages  me  ever  so  much. 
But  I  think  he  does  not  plage  so  much  as  he 
used  to.  Mamma  was  so  pleased  about  him 
and  is  at  this  present  moment  writing  to  him. 
It  is  a  very  charming  thing  to  have  sencible 
and  religious  parents  and  I  suppose  also  it 
must  be  so  for  the  parents  to  have  their  chil- 
dren improve  and  be  as  sencible  and  good  as  is 
in  their  natures.  But  it  is  not  in  mine  to  be 
so  good  as  Bessie  and  I  despair  of  it  for  it  is 
not  in  me.  The  other  day  a  lady  was  talking 
to  Bessie  and  I  heard  her  say  afterwards, 
'  That  child  is  a  little  angel.'  I  suppose  she 
meant  like  an  angel  which  would  be  far  better 
for  her  to  say  as  it  is  always  best  to  say 
just  what  you  mean  but  I  thank  her  for  the 
complement  to  my  Bessie  and  think  she  must 
be  a  woman  of  sense. 

"  Harry  wrote  to  Mamma  and  said  some- 
thing that  hurt  my  feelings.  He  said  I  wrote 
very  nice  letters  but  they  were  so  full  of  moral 


154  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

reflextions  and  centiment  that  he  almost  killed 
himself  laughing.  Now  I  know  he  didn't 
almost  kill  himself  and  Miss  Ashton  never 
taught  us  reflextions  and  centiment  and  I  don't 
know  what  they  mean  and  I  wouldn't  do  such 
a  thing  as  to  put  them  in  my  letters.  I  don't 
think  Harry  is  very  kind  to  say  that  and  make 
fun  of  me.  But  don't  you  tell  any  one  I  said 
so  for  you  know  I  tell  you  all  my  secrets  dear 
Uncle  Ruthven  and  maybe  Harry  would  think 
I  was  cross. 

"  Please  give  my  love  to  every  body  I  know 
if  I  do  love  them  and  if  I  don't  my  comple- 
ments and  most  of  all  to  all  my  own  people. 
It  took  me  two  days  to  write  all  this  letter 
which  I  hope  will  give  satisfaction  from  your 
affectionate  beloved 

''  Maggie." 


Last  of  all  here  is  a  little  letter  which  Bessie 
wrote  to  her  grandmamma,  — 


"  Dear  darling  Granmamma,  —  Your  Bes- 


Letters,  155 

sie  is  going  to  send  a  letter  to  you  to  tell  you 
how  1  love  you  but  I  cant  rite  such  nice 
leters  as  Maggie.  Dont  Maggie  make  nice 
leters  and  she  said  she  would  help  me  but 
I  toled  her  I  wanted  to  make  it  all  myself 
so  you  would  kno  how  much  I  love  you. 
Please  dear  Granmamma  to  rite  me  an  answer 
to  my  leter  and  I  hope  you  will  keep  alife  till 
we  come  home  or  if  you  are  not  dear  Manma 
will  cry  and  all  the  rest  of  us  two.  I  saw  a 
carf  in  a  cart  with  all  its  legs  tied  and  it  mad 
me  sorry  and  I  wish  it  was  mine  to  let  it  luse. 
Baby  is  so  sweet  and  she  has  a  new  trik  that 
is  so  cuning.  All  the  time  she  pulls  off  her 
shoes  and  soks  and  Mamma  don't  want  her  to 
so  Nursey  says  shame  shame  when  she  does 
it  and  when  baby  sees  any  one  else  do  it  now 
she  always  calls  shame  and  she  saw  a  gentel- 
man  in  the  parlor  who  did  not  kno  how  to  be 
very  polite  and  he  sat  with  his  slipper  hang- 
ing on  his  toe  and  Baby  pointed  her  finger  at 
him  and  called  out  very  loud  Oh  shame  shame 
and  every  boddy  lafed  it  was  so  funny.     Every 


156  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

day  I  am  more  and  more  glad  for  dear  Marima 
feels  so  much  better  and  it  makes  such  a  joy 
in  my  hart  that  I  can't  tell  it  but  you  kno  it 
don't  you  dear  Granmanma  for  you  are  her 
own  mother  and  you  love  her  just  like  she 
loves  me.  I  am  too  tired  to  make  it  any 
longer  and  I  love  you  and  my  solger  and  all 
my  peple  and  I  send  them  kisses. 
"  Good  by  dear  Granmanma 

"  Your  little  pet 

"  Bessie." 


vn. 


A  ''REAL,  REAL  ADVENTURED 

I-IEY  were   all   in   the   railway   tram 

bound  for ;  that  is,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 

Bradford,  with  their  three  little  girls 
and  nurse,  Mr.  Powers,  Belle,  and  old  Daphne. 

Maggie,  Bessie,  and  Belle,  with  their  dolls, 
had  two  whole  seats  to  themselves,  one  hav- 
ing been  turned  so  as  to  face  the  other,  and 
give  them  what  Bessie  called  a  "  nice,  cun- 
ning travelling-house."  Here  they  had  estab- 
lished themselves  in  great  comfort,  papa  and 
mamma  being  just  behind  ;  while  Mr.  Powers, 
and  the  two  nurses  with  Baby,  were  seated 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  car. 

And  here,  by  and  by,  seeing  the  nice  play 
that  was  going  on,  did  Miss  Baby  think  it  best 


158  Bessie  o?i  her  Tj-avels, 

to  betake  herself  and  her  own  doll,  named  Peter 
Bartholomew.  This  gentleman  with  the  long 
name,  which  had  been  given  to  him  by  Fred, 
was  made  entirely  of  worsted,  face,  cap,  coat, 
and  pants,  all  knit  of  the  brightest  colors,  and 
could  be  knocked  about  or  thrown  from  any 
height  without  damage  to  his  head  or  limbs. 
So  for  this  reason  he  had  come  travelling  with 
Baby  Annie,  as  her  dolls  were  apt  to  receive 
some  hard  knocks  and  severe  falls,  not  alto- 
gether wholesome  for  more  brittle  materials. 

But  Annie  was  not  very  fond  of  Peter  Bar- 
tholomew, and  he  received  some  pretty  hard 
usage  at  her  tiny  hands ;  so  that  it  was  well 
he  was  not  a  gentleman  of  tender  feelings,  and 
was  able  to  take  thumps,  hard  squeezes,  and 
scoldings  with  the  utmost  composure. 

However,  on  this  occasion  she  thought  it 
wise  to  praise  Peter  Bartholomew,  by  way  of 
persuading  her  sisters  that  his  company,  as 
well  as  her  own,  was  desirable ;  and,  putting 
ner  little  head  on  one  side  in  the  most  insinua 
ting  manner,  she  spoke  thus  from  nurse's  lap,- 


A  ^^  jReal,  Real  Adventure.^''        159 

"  Baby  tome  too.  Peter  tome  too.  Baby 
dood.  Peter  dood.  Nice  Peter.  Oli,  pitty 
Peter !  " 

*'  Oh  !  isn't  she  too  cunning,  the  darling  ?  " 
said  Bessie.  "  Let's  let  her  come  play  with 
us." 

"Yes,  we'll  take  her  in  our  house,"  said 
Belle. 

So  baby  was  taken  into  the  enclosure,  which 
Maggie  had  made  quite  complete  by  fastening 
a  handkerchief  from  the  arm  of  one  seat  to 
that  of  the  other,  and  calling  it  "  the  door." 
Nurse  could  have  lifted  baby  at  once  into  the 
place  which  was  offered  for  her ;  but  that  would 
not  do  at  all.  Baby  must  wait  till  the  door 
was  untied,  and  she  admitted  in  due  form. 

Once  there,  and  seated  in  a  snug  corner, 
she  behaved  herself  very  well  for  a  long  time, 
watching  her  little  sisters  and  Belle  with  grave 
admiration  and  wonder,  and  submitting  to  be 
played  and  '•''pretended^''  with  just  as  they 
chose,  only  now  and  then  insisting  that  they 
should  all  "  tiss  Peter,"  a  thing  which  she 


l6o  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

would   by   no  means   be  induced  to  do  her- 
self. 

But  at  last  she  took  it  into  her  head  to  look 
out  of  the  window,  and  in  order  to  do  that  she 
must  stand  upon  her  feet,  which  was  not  safe 
to  let  her  do  without  some  careful  hand  to 
guard  her  ;  and  as  she  objected  very  decidedly 
to  returning  to  the  other  side  of  the  car  where 
nurse  sat,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  let 
nurse  come  to  her. 

Now  this  interfered  very  much  with  the 
arrangements  of  the  three  little  girls,  who  were 
having  a  grand  "  family  "  play  ;  and  not  one  of 
them  was  at  all  inclined  to  be  so  disturbed, 
and  there  was  even  some  pouting  when  nurse 
said  they  must  make  room  for  her  for  a  short 
time. 

But  Maggie,  Bessie,  and  Belle  could  all  un- 
derstand better  than  Baby  Annie,  that  in  trav- 
elling one  must  consider  the  comfort  and 
convenience  of  one's  fellow-passengers,  as  well 
as  one's  own.  Baby  was  very  little,  and  not 
very  well :  they  had  a  long  day's  journey  be- 


A  ^^  Real,  Real  Adventtire,^^        i6i 

fore  tliem,  and  it  was  necessary  that  slie  should 
be  indulged  in  a  measure,  and  kept  in  a  good 
humor  as  long  as  possible  ;  and  Bessie  was  the 
first  to  think  of  this. 

*'  Now,  just  let  me  in  here  for  a  bit,  my 
honeys,"  said  nurse,  as  Maggie  stood  with  her 
hand  on  the  pocket-handkerchief  door,  deter- 
mined to  defend  her  "  house  "  as  long  as  pos- 
sible. "  Baby'll  fret  if  I  take  her  to  the  other 
side  when  she  don't  like  it,  and  that  will  worry 
your  mother ;  besides  it's  sunny  there  when 
we  come  out  of  the  woods.  Let  her  look  out 
of  your  window  awhile,  with  me  to  hold  her, 
and  it  will  soon  be  her  sleepy  time,  when  ye 
may  have  your  place  to  yourselves." 

Now  old  nurse  was  by  no  means  a  small 
woman ;  and  the  children  knew  that  their 
quarters  would  be  very  much  narrowed  when 
she  should  find  entrance  there,  and  she  might 
have  found  it  hard  work  to  pers:iade  them  to 
jield  without  interference  from  their  father 
or  mother,  had  not  Bessie  bethought  herself 
when  nurse  spoke  of  her  mother. 
11 


1 62  Bessie  on  her   Travels. 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  she  said  to  her  sister  and  Belle, 
"  jou  know  we  came  on  our  travels  to  do 
mamma  good,  and  so  we  mustn't  let  any  thing 
trouble  her.  If  we  do,  maybe  our  Father  would 
think  we  didn't  care  very  much  that  He  made 
her  better,  and  that  we  are  ungrateful.  Any 
thing  must  be  choosed  'cept  to  worry  mamma. 
And  baby  don't  know  any  better ;  so  let's  give 
up  to  her  this  time,  'cause  if  she  cries  every- 
body will  be  uncomf 'able." 

"  Well,"  said  Maggie,  once  more  untying 
the  handkerchief,  "  I  won't  be  selfish." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Belle,  who  had  been  the  most 
unwilling  to  give  up  her  own  way. 

The  "  cunning  house  "  was  certainly  far  less 
roomy  when  Mammy  was  seated  therein  ;  but 
having  made  up  their  minds  to  do  a  kind  act, 
our  little  girls  did  it  pleasantly  and  made  no 
fussing  about  it ;  the  only  thing  that  was  said 
being  when  Bessie  remarked,  — 

"  Nursey,  it  would  be  rather  convenienter  if 
you  were  not  quite  so  fat,"  which  nurse  thought 
a  great  joke,  and  laughed  heartily,  saying,  — 


A  ^^  jReal,  Real  Adventure,^*        163 

"And  there's  nobody  knows  that  better 
than  your  old  Mammy,  my  pet ;  but  just  put 
by  your  play  till  baby's  had  her  fill  of  looking 
out,  and  I'll  tell  ye  a  story." 

Nurse's  stories  always  found  a  market ;  and 
the  three  little  girls  ranged  themselves  in  the 
seat  facing  her,  and  listened  eagerly  while  she 
told  them  the  most  marvellous  of  fairy  tales. 

Meanwhile,  Baby  Annie,  happy  and  con- 
tented, amused  herself  with  watching  the 
swiftly  passing  objects ;  and  Peter  Bartholo- 
mew, held  by  one  foot,  hung  dangling  head 
downwards  from  the  car  window.  How  much 
he  enjoyed  this  novel  mode  of  riding,  neither  he 
nor  his  little  mistress  ever  told,  though  baby 
had  enough  to  say  both  to  herself  and  him 
while  nurse  talked  to  the  other  children. 

But  at  last  Mrs.  Bradford  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  Take  care,  nurse  ;  baby  has  her  head  out !  " 
and  Mammy,  who  had  turned  her  face  for  a 
moment  from  her  charge,  drew  her  in  and 
seated  her  on  her  lap. 


164  Bessie  on  her  Travels » 

"  Baby  must  not  put  her  head  out,"  said 
mamma :  "  she'll  be  hurt." 

"  Peter  out,"  said  baby. 

*'  Why  !  she's  lost  Peter  Barfolomew,"  said 
Belle. 

"  Sure  enough,"  said  nurse,  when  she  had 
shaken  out  her  skirts,  and  looked  on  the  floor, 
without  finding  that  gentleman. 

"  Bad  Peter.  Peter  all  don,"  chuckled  the 
baby. 

"Did  ye  throw  Peter  out?"  asked  Mam- 
my. 

Baby  could  not  say  yes  ;  but  she  nodded  her 
little  head  till  it  seemed  as  if  she  would  wag 
it  off,  seeming  to  think  she  had  done  some- 
thing very  praiseworthy. 

"  Oh,  you  naughty  girl !  "  said  nurse. 

"No,  no:  baby  dood  ;  bad  Peter.  Peter 
all  don,  Peter  out,"  said  baby  again,  clapping 
her  hands,  and  laughing  with  the  most  self- 
Batisfied  air. 

Yes,  Peter  Bartholomew  was  "  all  gone," 
left  far  behind  as  the  train  sped  on  its  way ; 


A  ^^  Real^  Real  Adventure.''^        165 

and  though  the  children  went  oif  into  merry 
peals  of  laughter  at  little  Annie's  bit  of  mis- 
chief, Mrs.  Bradford  was  rather  sorry,  since 
Aunt  Patty  had  taken  such  pains  to  make  him 
for  her.  However,  the  baby  knew  no  better, 
and  his  loss  could  not  trouble  her  much. 

Nurse  had  not  finished  her  story,  and  when 
the  children's  mirth  had  subsided,  she  went 
on  with  it.  Having  disposed  of  Peter  Barthol- 
omew, and  finding  that  she  was  not  allowed 
to  put  her  head  out,  the  window  lost  its 
charms  for  baby,  and  she  sat  still  on  nurse's 
lap  for  a  few  moments,  gravely  regarding  her 
fellow-passengers,  and  trying  to  find  amuse- 
ment in  them. 

Nor  was  it  long  before  she  found  a  new  ob- 
ject of  interest.  In  the  seat  next  to  Mammy  and 
herself,  and  of  course  with  his  back  towards 
them  as  they  rode  backwards,  was  a  gentleman 
who  wore  an  enormous  Panama  straw  hat. 
The  older  children  had  remarked  this  hat  and 
"wondered  at  it,  but  after  the  first  moment  they 
forgot  both  the  hat  and  its  wearer,  and  noticed 


i66  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

them  no  more.  But  I  cannot  say  that  the  gen- 
tleman had  not  noticed  them,  although  he  gave 
no  sign  of  doing  so. 

The  hat  by  no  means  took  baby's  fancy : 
perhaps  she  thought  it  took  up  more  than  its 
share  of  room  in  the  world  ;  however  that  may 
be,  she  concluded  to  take  a  closer  look  at  it, 
and  raised  herself  upon  her  little  feet  on  the 
cushioned  seat  beside  Mammy.  First  she 
looked  at  the  hat  on  one  side,  then  on  the 
other ;  then  she  peeped  under  it ;  then  tried 
to  lift  herself  on  the  tips  of  her  small  toes  and 
peer  over  it ;  then  carefully  touched  it  with  one 
little  finger,  and  finally  expressed  her  opinion 
in  a  loud,  emphatic, 

"  Bad  hat !  " 

But  the  owner  of  the  offending  article  of 
dress  did  not  turn  his  head  or  appear  to  take 
the  slightest  notice,  not  even  when  baby  re- 
peated,— 

"Bad,  bad  hat!   Off  hat!" 

"  Sh !  sh !  my  lamb.  What's  come  to  ye 
to-day  ?  "  said  nurse. 


A  "^ ReaU  Real  Adventure''        167 

Not  the  spirit  of  a  lamb  cei'tainly,  for  baby 
was  in  a  contrary  mood,  and  determined  to 
have  her  own  way  by  one  means  or  another  ; 
and,  finding  the  hat  remained  in  its  place  in 
spite  of  her  orders,  she  seized  hold  of  it ;  and, 
before  nurse  could  stop  her,  had  snatched  it 
from  the  stranger's  head  and  tossed  it  into  his 
lap.  Still,  without  turning  his  head  or  seeming 
at  all  distm-bed,  the  gentleman  put  it  on  again, 
while  baby  struggled  to  free  herself  from  nurse's 
hold,  shouting, — 

"  Off  liat,  off!  Bad  hat !  "  again  and  again, 
till  her  mother  was  obliged  to  call  her  to 
order. 

Little  as  she  was,  baby  had  learned  to  obey 
when  mamma  spoke  ;  but  the  sight  of  that  hat 
was  not  to  be  endured  by  any  baby  of  taste, 
and  even  when  seated  upon  mamma's  lap,  and 
treated  to  a  bit  of  sponge-cake  and  papa's 
watch,  she  could  not  forget  it,  but  now  and 
then  broke  forth  in  a  wailing  tone  with,  — 

"  Oh  dear !  Bad  hat,  off  hat !  "  till  at  last 
the  gentleman  removed  the  hat,  and  submitted 


i6S  Bessie  on  he?-  Travels, 

to  ride  bareheaded  till  his  little  tormentor 
should  be  asleep. 

This  was  soon  the  case  when  the  cause  of  her 
trouble  was  out  of  sight ;  for  it  was,  as  nurse 
said,  "  her  sleepy  time,"  —  one  reason  perhaps 
why  she  was  so  fractious,  —  and  she  forgot  hat, 
watch,  and  cake  in  a  sound  mid-day  nap. 

Her  two  sisters  and  Belle  thought  all  this 
remarkably  funny,  and  had  had  much  ado 
to  stifle  their  laughter,  so  that  it  should  not 
reach  the  ears  of  the  stranger  with  whom  baby 
had  made  so  free.  But  in  spite  of  their  amuse- 
ment, which  had  been  shared  by  more  than 
one  of  the  grown  people  around,  Bessie  was 
rather  troubled  lest  mamma  should  be  worried 
by  the  little  thing's  misbehavior  and  crying, 
and  also  lest  the  gentleman  should  have  been 
vexed. 

To  tell  the  truth,  he  was  rather  annoyed  at 
the  notice  which  "all  this  had  brought  upon 
him  and  his  unfortunate  hat ;  but  his  vexation 
passed  away  the  moment  he  heard  a  soft  voice 
at  his  ear,  whispering, — 


A  ^^  I^eal,  Real  Adventure,^'*        169 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  sir,  for  taking  off 
your  hat ;  and  will  you  please  to  s'cuse  baby, 
'cause  she  don't  know  any  better  than  to  take 
a  liberty.  As  soon  as  she  can  understand, 
mamma  will  teach  her  to  be  polite." 

The  gentleman  turned  his  face  towards  her. 
A  pleasant,  good-natured  face  it  was,  with  a 
merry  twinkle  in  the  eyes  just  now. 

"  Mamma  is  a  first-rate  teacher  of  politeness 
and  some  other  good  things,  I  see,"  he  said, 
smiling. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  'deed  she  is,"  answered  Bessie  ; 
wondering  what  mamma  had  said  or  done 
since  they  had  been  in  the  cars  by  which  this 
stranger  could  know  so  much ;  and  then,  think- 
ing  her  duty  done,  she  turned  away  and  began 
her  play  with  the  other  children  again.  After 
this,  all  went  smoothly  and  quietly  enough  till 
they  reached  a  town  where  they  were  to  change 
cars,  and  where  two  different  railroads  rrosoed 
one  another  at  the  depot.  Here  thej^  had  to 
wait  for  an  hour  until  their  train  sb^uld  be 
ready    to    start ;    and    here    Mrs.     t'radford 


170  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

thought  she  might  have  a  good  rest  after  her 
long  ride. 

But  a  fair  was  going  on  in  the  small  town, 
and  the  dirty  little  hotel  was  full  to  overflow- 
ing ;  so  that  the  only  place  that  could  be  had 
for  Mrs.  Bradford  and  her  sleeping  baby  was 
an  eight  feet  square  room  with  a  hard  sofa, 
and  two  equally  uninviting  chairs.  However, 
by  means  of  cloaks  and  shawls,  a  tolerably 
comfortable  resting-place  was  arranged  for 
these  two  ;  and  the  three  children  who  had 
no  mind  to  be  shut  up  in  the  tiny  room,  were 
taken  for  a  walk  by  Mr.  Bradford  and  Daphne ; 
Mr.  Powers  going  to  call  on  an  old  friend  who 
lived  near  by. 

But  there  was  a  good  deal  of  noise,  dust, 
and  confusion  in  the  street,  and  the  little  girls 
soon  tired  of  it  and  wanted  to  go  back  to  the 
hotel.  When  they  reached  it,  two  trains  were 
standing  at  the  station,  and  Daphne  exclaimed, 
pointing  to  the  nearest,  — 

"  Dere's  de  train,  Massa  Bradford.  S'posin' 
I  jis  takes  de  little  ladies  into  de  cars.     Better 


A  ^^ Real,  Real  Adventure"        171 

for  dem  waitin'  dere  dan  in  de  verandy  where 
al]  dem  folks  is ;  an'  we'll  wake  Miss  Babj  for 
sure  all  goin'  into  dat  little  room." 

This  last  was  more  than  likely ;  and  the 
veranda  where  all  those  men  were  lounging 
about,  smoking  and  drinking  and  swearing, 
was  certainly  no  place  for  little  ladies ;  and 
Daphne's  idea  seemed  a  good  one  to  Mr. 
Bradford. 

"  You  are  sure  that  is  our  train,  Daphne  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Sure,  Massa  Bradford.  Ain't  I  been  in  it 
a  hundred  times  ?  " 

"Is  this  the  train  for ?"  asked   Mr. 

Bradford  of  a  man  standing  beside  the  cars. 

"  All  right,  sir.  Last  car,  sir,"  was  the 
reply. 

Mr.  Bradford  thinking  himself  quite  sure, 
helped  the  children  and  Daphne  into  the  car, 
found  them  good  places,  and  looking  at  his 
watch,  said,  — 

"  We  have  half  an  hour  still.  Keep  these 
seats  for  the  rest  of  our  party,  and  I  will  bring 


1*J2  Bessie  on  her  Tt'avels. 

them  all  soon.  You  are  right.  Daphne  :  it  is 
more  comfortable  here  than  in  the  hotel." 

Then  he  went  away  ;  and  for  a  few  moments 
the  children  were  well  amused,  watching  all 
the  bustle  around  the  station,  and  now  and 
then  dipping  rosy  little  fingers  into  a  basket 
of  delicious  strawberries  just  given  to  Daphne 
by  a  friend  whom  she  had  met.  The  old 
woman's  pleasure  in  the  splendid  fruit,  was 
to  see  her  young  mistress  and  her  little  friends 
enjoy  it,  and  she  encouraged  them  to  eat  as 
long  as  they  would. 

But  presently  a  steam  whistle  sounded,  and 
she  looked  about  her  uneasily,  saying,  — 

"  'Pears  like  this  train  ain't  maybe  right, 
after  all.  I  go  see  'bout  him.  Miss  Belle.  Jea 
you  sit  still  one  minute." 

If  Daphne  had  not  been  so  engaged  in  feed- 
ing her  young  charge,  she  would  have  known 
that  this  was  the  second  time  the  whistle  had 
sounded  ;  and  she  was  terribly  startled  when 
just  as  she  set  her  foot  upon  the  ground  in 
order  to  seek  Mr.  Bradford  and  make  all  sure, 


/     //       / 1  II 


B3ssie"s  Travels. 


p.  172. 


A  ^^  I^eal,  Real  Adventure,^        173 

it  was  blown  again,  there  was  a  call  of  "  all 
aboard,"  and  before  the  bewildered  old  woman 
bad  collected  her  senses,  the  train  steamed 
out  of  the  station.  Had  she  instantly  made 
known  her  trouble  to  those  about  her,  it  might 
not  even  then  have  been  too  late  ;  but  instead 
of  that  she  rushed  after  the  cars,  gesticulating 
and  beckoning  with  an  umbrella  which  was 
the  pride  of  her  heart,  and  which  she  always 
carried,  and  crying  aloud,  — 

''  Hi  there  !  Hi !  Hold  on  dem  cars ;  hold 
on  till  I  get  my  chillen.     Hi  I  Hi !  " 

The  people  about  thought  her  crazy,  and 
laughed  and  cheered  as  she  tore  after  the  fast 
receding  train  ;  but  to  poor  old  Daphne  it  was 
no  joke,  and  as  it  turned  a  curve  in  the  road 
and  was  lost  to  sight,  she  dropped  her  um- 
brella and  stood  still  wringing  her  hands,  and 
crying,— 

"Oh,  de  chillen,  de  chillen !  Oh,  my  little 
Miss  Belle !  what  I  gone  and  done,  and  what 
dey  fader s  say  ?  " 

But  we  must  leave  Daphne,  and  go  in  tlid 
cars  with  our  three  little  girls. 


174  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

For  the  first  few  moments  they  did  not 
understand  it,  and  even  after  the  cars  were 
in  rapid  motion,  looked  about  them  expecting 
to  see  their  parents  and  nurses  come  in.  The 
truth  came  first  to  Maggie,  and  her  poor  little 
heart  almost  stood  still  with  terror  and  dis- 
may. 

"  Why,  we're  going !  "  exclaimed  Belle. 
"  Where's  papa  ?  " 

"And  papa  and  mamma,  and  all  our  peo- 
ple ?  "  cried  Bessie  in  a  terrified  voice. 

Then  Maggie  broke  forth. 

"  Oh,  we're  gone  off  with !  They're  left 
behind !  What  shall  we  do  ?  Oh !  what  shall 
we  do  ?  There's  nobody  to  take  care  of  us : 
we're  gone  off  with." 

Belle  immediately  set  up  the  most  violent 
screams  ;  and  Maggie  and  Bessie  were  as  much 
distressed,  though  they  did  not  cry  as  loudly. 

The  people  around  them  soon  understood 
the  cause  of  their  trouble :  indeed  Maggie's 
exclamations  left  no  room  for  doubt,  that 
fliey  were  really  "  gone  off  with  ; "  though  it 


A  "^  ReaU  Real  Adventure, ^^        175 

was  some  time  before  either  of  the  three 
could  speak  coherently  enough  to  say  how  it 
had  happened.  In  fact  the  poor  little  things 
hardly  knew  themselves :  all  they  could  tell 
was  that  Daphne  had  thought  they  were  in 
the  wrong  train,  had  gone  to  see,  and  before 
she  came  back  they  were  speeding  away,  they 
knew  not  where,  without  their  natural  pro- 
tectors, and  in  the  midst  of  perfect  strangers. 

Bessie  was  the  first  to  collect  herself 
enough  to  make  the  story  understood,  though 
even  then,  her  tears  would  hardly  let  her 
speak  to  the  group  of  curious  and  sympa- 
thizing people,  who  gathered  around  the  three 
as  they  climg  weeping  together. 

"  And  now  we're  quite,  quite  lost ;  and 
there's  no  policeman  to  help  us,"  she  sobbed ; 
"  and  what  will  mamma  do  ? " 

"  Poor  little  dears,"  said  a  lady,  pressing 
forward,  and  laying  her  hand  soothingly  on 
the  little,  pitiful,  upturned  face.  "  Don't  cry 
so,  my  cliildren :  you'll  be  taken  back  in 
some  way  to  your  parents." 


176  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  I'm  all  papa  has,"  gasped  Belle :  *'  ho 
can't  do  wifout  me." 

"Please  let  us  get  out,"  moaned  Maggie  : 
*  we  could  run  back  to  where  our  papa  and 
;namma  are." 

"  The  train  must  be  put  back,"  said  one 
of  the  by-standers,  and  he  went  to  find  the 
conductor,  and  see  what  could  be  done ;  while 
the  lady  who  had  spoken  to  the  children  sat 
down  beside  them  and  tried  to  quiet  them 
with  assurances  that  their  parents  would 
certainly  find  them  again. 

"But  dear  mamma  will  be  so  frightened 
and  worried,  and  it's  so  bad  for  her,"  said 
Bessie ;  her  first  thought  always  that  tender 
care  for  her  mother. 

The  story  had  spread  through  the  train ;  and 
people  were  coming  in  from  the  other  cars  to 
look  at  the  three  little  waifs,  who,  all  by  them- 
selves, were  each  instant  being  taken  farther 
from  their  friends  ;  and  Belle  looking,  up  as 
the  door  was  opened  afresh,  spied  a  familiar 
object. 


A  '^ ReaU  Real  Adventure''        177 

"  Oh  !  there's  the  '  bad  hat '  man  !  "  she 
cried,  glad  to  see  any  thmg  on  which  she  had 
ever  laid  her  eyes  before,  even  though  it 
might  be  that  ugly  hat  with  the  strange  face 
beneath  it. 

At  the  same  moment  there  came  in  also 
the  conductor,  and  the  gentleman  who  had 
gone  to  find  him ;  and  now  the  children  felt 
a  faint  hope  that  there  might  be  some  way 
out  of  this  trouble. 

But  the  conductor  was  surly,  and  absolutely 
refused  to  put  back,  —  which  indeed  would 
have  been  hardly  safe,  —  or  to  stop  the  train 
and  let  out  the  children,  as  was  proposed  by 
some  person,  and  pleaded  for  by  the  little 
ones  themselves. 

And  here  the  "  bad  hat "  man  put  in  his 
word. 

"  That  would  never  do,"  he  said ;  "  those 

little  things  could  not  possibly  walk  back  to 

f//^lM*^  and  no  conveyance  could  be  found  along 

here.     They  must  come  on  to  the  next  station, 

and  there  we  will  see  what  can  be  done." 

12 


178  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Down  went  the  three  heads  and  up  went 
Belle's  voice  again  at  these  unwelcome  words ; 
but  the  "  bad  hat "  had  a  kind  heart  beneath 
it,  and  the  wearer  at  once  set  himself  to 
comfort  the  forlorn  children. 

"  Come,  come,  take  heart,"  he  said  cheerily. 
"  Now  let  us  see  how  soon  we  shall  get  back 
to  papa  and  mamma.  It  will  not  take  us 
more  than  one  hour  or  so,  to  reach  the  next 
station,  and  then  —  well,  to  be  sure,  well 
have  to  wait  awhile  there  for  the  up-train," 
—  he  did  not  think  it  best  to  say  it  would  be 
more  than  four  hours, — "but  we'll  telegraph 
them  and  let  them  know  you  are  all  safe,  and 
will  be  with  them  before  long." 

"Do  you  know  the  children  sir?"  asked 
a  lady. 

"  Well,  no,  madam,  and  they  don't  know 
me  ;  but  they  know  my  hat  pretty  well,  and  I 
think  that  is  ground  for  an  acquaintance. 
It's  a  broad  one,  anyhow,  is  it  not  ?  "  he  said 
with  a  nod  at  Belle,  "  and  we're  going  to  take 
advantage  of  it." 


A  "  jReal,  Real  Adventure,^''        179 

"  It's  a  great  while  for  poor  mamma  to  wait 
for  us,  and  she'll  be  very  frightened,"  said 
Bessie,  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  though 
they  were  immediately  filled  again.  ''  I  s'pose 
she'll  think  we're  never  coming  back  to  her." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  "  Bad  Hat :  "  "  she'll 
think  you'll  find  some  one  to  look  after  you 
and  bring  you  back ;  and  how  delighted  she'll 
be  to  see  you  safe  after  such  an  adventure." 

At  this  last  word  all  the  children  pricked 
up  their  ears,  especially  Maggie.  She,  being 
the  most  timid  of  the  three,  had  been  the 
most  broken  down  by  terror,  and  had,  until 
now,  remained  in  the  very  depths  of  despair. 
But  it  was  really  almost  a  consolation  to  hear 
this  called  "  an  adventure,"  and  to  remember 
that  here  was  a  subject  for  the  most  interest- 
ing of  letters,  provided  they  ever  again  reached 
home  and  friends,  and  had  the  opportunity  of 
writing  such.  She  was  still  rather  doubtful 
how  this  was  to  be  brought  about,  in  spite  of 
Mr.  "  Bad  Hat's  "  assurances. 

"Why !  so  it  is  an  adventure,"  said  Bessie; 


i8o  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  and  Maggie  said  she  wished  we'd  have  some 
great  adventure,  but  she  didn't  mean  this  kind 
of  a  one  ;  did  you,  Maggie  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  I  didn't,"  sobbed  Maggie. 

"  But  you  can  write  a  letter  about  it,"  said 
Belle,  catching  ber  breath  between  almost 
every  two  words ;  "  and  it  will  be  so  interest- 
ing :  all  the  people  you  know  will  want  to  read 
it." 

Belle,  as  well  as  Bessie,  had  the  greatest  ad- 
miration for  Maggie's  letters,  and  thought  them 
the  most  marvellous  works  of  genius. 

"  Of  course  they  will,"  said  the  gentleman, 
whom  our  little  strays  were  already  beginning 
to  look  upon  as  a  friend.  "  And  so,  Maggie 
writes  letters,  does  she  ?  I  wish  she  would 
write  one  to  me  one  of  these  days." 

"  But  she  don't  know  your  name,"  said 
Bessie. 

"  "Well,  perhaps  she  might  find  out.  I  am 
not  ashamed  of  it.  But  I  think  this  little 
lady  has  found  a  name  for  me.  When  I  came 
in  the  car  I  heard  her  say,  '  There's  the  bad 


'     A  ^^  jReal,  Real  Adventured*        i8i 

hat  man.'  Now  suppose  Maggie  writes  a  letter 
and  directs  it  to  the  '  bad  hat  man,'  do  you 
think  it  would  reach  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  fink  it  would,"  said  Belle  with 
emphasis,  and  eyeing  the  hat  with  a  look 
which  seemed  to  add,  "  there's  no  possibility 
of  mistaking  that  hat." 

So,  in  pleasant,  cheerful  talk,  the  friendly 
stranger  tried  to  beguile  the  way,  and  help 
the  little  ones  to  bear  their  troubles ;  and  he 
partly  succeeded,  though  now  and  then  a  heavy 
sigh,  or  a  murmured  ''  Are  we  most  at  the 
next  station  ?  "  or  ''  Oh,  mamma  !  "  showed 
that  they  were  not  forgotten.  The  other  peo- 
ple, who  had  gathered  round  in  pitying  sym- 
pathy, saw  that  they  had  fallen  into  good 
hands,  and  went  back  to  their  seats,  leaving 
them  to  his  care. 

"  But  what  shall  we  do  now  ?  "  asked  Mag- 
gie, in  new  alarm,  as  they  at  last  approached 
the  longed-for  station  where  they  were  to  leave 
this  train,  and  at  least  feel  that  they  were  to 
be  borne  no  farther  from  their  friends.  ''  1 
don't  know  about  the  streets  " 


i82  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

Now  it  was  rather  a  strange,  but  a  very 
good  thing  that,  timid  as  Maggie  was,  she 
seldom  lost  her  presence  of  mind  ;  and,  how- 
ever frightened  she  might  be,  could  still  think 
what  was  best  to  do  for  herself  and  others. 
You  will  remember  how  she  thought  of  her  own 
sash  and  Bessie's,  as  a  means  for  saving  Aunt 
Bessie's  life  when  she  fell  over  the  precipice 
at  Chalecoo.  So  now  feeling  as  if  the  care  of 
Bessie  and  Belle  rather  fell  upon  her,  since  she 
was  the  oldest  of  the  three,  she  tried  to  collect 
her  thoughts  and  plan  how  she  should  act. 
But  it  was  all  useless,  this  was  such  a  new  and 
untried  place,  and  so  many  dangers  and  diffi- 
culties seemed  to  beset  her,  that  she  could  not 
see  her  way  out  of  them.  But  her  fears  were 
speedily  set  at  rest. 

"  Oh !  you  are  only  going  to  do  as  I  tell 
you,"  said  their  new  friend.  "  I  shall  see 
you  safe  in  your  parents'  hands." 

"  Will  you,  sir  ? "  cried  Maggie  joyfully, 
and  slipped  her  hand  into  his,  in  her  great 
relief. 


A  ^  Real^  Real  AdventtireJ'^        183 

"  Are  you  going  to  get  out  here  ?  "  asked 
Bessie,  as  the  train  slackened  its  speed. 

"  Yes  :  you  did  not  think  I  would  leave  you 
to  shift  for  yourselves  ?  " 

"  Do  you  live  here  ?  "  asked  Belle. 

"  No :  I  live  down  in  Florida,''  was  the  an- 
swer. 

"  And  are  you  going  to  get  out  here  just  to 
take  care  of  us  ? "  asked  Bessie. 

He  smiled  and  nodded  assent. 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  said  Bessie.  "  Is 
it  just  as  convenient  as  not  for  you  ? " 

"  Well,  no,"  he  returned.  "  I  cannot  say 
it  is  ;  but  then  I  heard  a  little  girl  say,  this 
morning,  that  '  any  thing  was  to  be  choosed 
before  mamma  should  be  worried,'  so  after 
that  I  think  I  must  do  all  I  can  to  relieve 
mamma's  anxiety,  and  get  you  back  to  her  as 
soon  as  possible." 

So  Bessie's  thoughtfulness  and  care  for  her 
dear  mother  was  reaping  its  own  reward. 


vm. 


OLD    JOE. 


STATION  was  not  much  of  a  place. 
Tliere  were  only  about  half  a  dozen 
houses,  as  many  barns,  and  one  store, 
which  was  part  of  the  little  station-house. 
And  there  was  no  telegraph  ;  but  when  our 
little  girls  and  their  protector  left  the  train, 
another  gentleman  promised  to  send  a  message 
to  their  parents  from  the  next  stopping-place. 
There  was  not  much  to  entertain  the  chil- 
dren, even  had  they  been  in  a  mood  to  be 
amused  ;  and  the  hours  dragged  very  wearily. 
The  kind  gentleman  would  have  taken  them 
for  a  walk  in  the  pleasant  pine  woods,  but  they 
were  so  fearful  lest  they  should  miss  the  up 
train,  which  was  to  carry  them  back  to  their 
mother  and   father,  that   they  could   not    be 


Old  Joe.  185 

induced  to  lose  sight  of  the  raiboad  track. 
Maggie  and  Belle  could  be  persuaded  to  do 
nothing  but  sit  on  the  low  bank  at  the  side  of 
the  road,  and  look  up  and  down  the  long  line 
of  rail  for  the  train,  which  was  still  so  far 
away.  Bessie,  naturally  more  trusting  and 
less  timid  than  the  others,  had  more  confi- 
dence in  their  new  friend  and  what  he  told 
her ;  but  she  would  not  leave  her  sister  and 
Belle,  and,  moreover,  was  too  tired  to  do  more 
than  wait  with  what  patience  she  might.  So 
the  "  bad  hat "  let  them  do  as  they  would, 
furnishing  them  with  some  dinner,  for  which 
they  had  little  appetite,  and  telling  them  droll 
stories,  which  could  not  draw  forth  more 
than  faint  smiles.  But  at  last  Bessie  found 
something  to  interest  her. 

There  was  an  old  colored  man  Avorking 
around  the  station,  cutting  wood,  drawing  wa- 
ter, and  so  forth,  and  he  cast  many  a  pitying 
glance  toward  the  sorrowful  little  strangers. 
Nor  did  he  content  himself  with  louking ;  for, 
having   finished   his   work   for  the   time,  he 


l86  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

walked  away  into  the  woods,  and  soon  came 
back  with  a  large  leaf  full  of  wood-strawber- 
ries, and  a  bunch  of  scarlet  cardinal  flowers 
and  yellow  jasmine,  which  he  offered  to  them. 

Bessie  took  them,  and,  after  thanking  him 
prettily,  divided  them  with  Maggie  and  Belle  ; 
then,  out  of  her  own  share,  arranged  a  little 
bouquet  for  Mr.  Travers  ;  for  that,  the  "  bad 
hat  man  "  had  said  was  his  name. 

"  How  pale  and  tired  you  look,  my  little 
girl !  "  he  said  as  she  fastened  it  in  his  button- 
hole :  "  suppose  you  lie  down  and  take  a  sleep  ? 
It  would  be  well  if  the  others  would  do  it 
too." 

They  all  thought  they  could  not  possibly  do 
such  a  thing,  "  the  train  might  go  by  "  while 
they  were  asleep  ;  but  when  Mr.  Travers  pro- 
posed that  he  should  spread  his  railway  rug 
under  the  shade  of  the  pine-trees,  where  they 
could  not  miss  hearing  the  train,  and  said  he 
would  sit  beside  them  and  wake  them  the 
moment  it  was  near,  Bessie  and  Belle  felt  as  if 
they  should  be  glad  to  take  advantage  of  his 


Old  Joe,  187 

kindness.  For  it  was  true  that  they  were  all 
three  quite  worn  out  with  fatigue  and  excite- 
ment. But  Maggie  was  very  decided  in  her 
refusal  to  take  a  nap,  saying  that  she  "  never 
went  to  sleep  except  at  night,  when  it  was  no 
use  to  stay  awake,  'cause  there  was  nothing 
to  do." 

But  when  the  rug  was  spread  beneath  the 
trees,  she  took  her  seat  upon  it  with  the  others, 
leaning  her  back  against  a  great  pine,  with 
Bessie's  head  in  her  lap.  Belle,  too,  cuddled 
close  up  to  her ;  and  Mr.  Travers  seated  him- 
self opposite,  with  his  book. 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  story-book  for  you,  Mag- 
gie," he  said. 

"  It's  no  matter,  sir,"  said  Maggie,  dolefully. 
"  I'm  not  in  good  enough  spirits  to  read.  I'd 
rather  think  about  going  back." 

"  Suppose  you  pass  the  time  by  composing 
that  letter  you  are  to  send  home,  telling  of 
this  adventure  ?  "  said  the  gentleman.  "  Here 
are  a  pencil,  and  the  back  of  a  letter,  if  you'll 
have  them." 


1 88  Bessie  on  her  Travels^ 

Maggie  brightened  considerably  at  this  sug- 
gestion, and  gratefully  accepted  the  kind  offer. 

Bessie  lay  with  her  head  in  Maggie's  lap, 
drowsily  thinking  how  pleasant  it  would  be 
to  go  to  sleep  in  this  nice  place,  if  papa  and 
mamma  and  baby  were  only  here  too.  It  was 
so  cool  and  quiet.  No  one  seemed  to  be  stir- 
ring in  the  cottages  or  the  small  station ;  not 
a  sound  was  heard  but  the  gentle  whisper  of 
the  breeze  in  the  tree-tops,  the  chirp  of  the 
crickets,  and  the  varied  notes  of  a  mocking- 
bird perched  not  far  from  them.  Then  the 
spicy  smell  of  the  pines  was  so  delicious  and 
balmy. 

Not  a  human  being  was  to  be  seen  but  their 
own  party,  and  the  old  negro  man,  who  now 
sat  upon  a  wheelbarrow  at  a  little  distance, 
reading  what  looked  like  a  leaf  or  two  from  a 
book.  He  seemed  to  read  very  slowly  and 
with  great  pains,  pointing  his  finger  along 
from  word  to  word,  and  forming  the  words 
with  his  mouth,  as  people  do  who  cannot  read 
very  well ;  but  he  appeared  to  bo  very  intent 
over  it. 


Old  Joe,  189 

"  I  wonder  wliat  he  is  reading,"  said  Bessie 
to  herself,  as  she  sleepily  watched  him :  *'  it 
looks  like  a  piece  out  of  an  old  torn  book. 
Maybe  it's  a  newspaper,  and  they  have  such  a 
very  little  one  'cause  this  is  such  a  very  little 
place,  and  there  isn't  much  to  tell  about.  I 
shouldn't  think  it  was  very  interesting  here." 

The  last  thing  she  saw  before  she  went 
to  sleep,  was  the  old  negro ;  and  the  first  on 
which  her  eyes  opened  was  the  white-haired 
man,  still  sitting  there,  poring  over  his  leaf,  as 
if  he  had  not  moved  from  that  spot ;  and  yet 
she  felt  as  if  she  had  taken  quite  a  long,  re- 
freshing nap. 

She  gently  turned  her  head,  and  looked  at 
her  companions.  Belle  did  not  appear  to 
have  moved,  lying  fast  asleep  with  her  cheek 
on  Maggie's  dress,  and  her  hat  over  her 
eyes,  just  as  she  had  lain  down.  Mr.  Travers 
sat  with  his  back  against  a  tree,  his  arms 
folded,  his  eyes  closed,  and  bareheaded.  Bes- 
sie turned  a  little  more,  so  that  she  could  see 
Maggie. 


ipo  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Why !  was  it  possible  ?  Yes,  surely :  watch- 
ful Maggie  was  fast  asleep  too.  The  pine-tree 
against  which  she  leaned  did  not  shoot  up 
with  a  straight,  unbroken  trunk,  as  they  gen- 
erally do,  but  was  a  kind  of  twin  tree,  parting 
into  two  a  foot  above  the  ground,  and  form- 
ing a  crook  or  fork.  In  this  fork  was  the 
"  bad  hat,"  and  on  the  "  bad  hat "  lay  Mag- 
gie's head,  as  peacefully  as  though  it  were 
the  pillow  of  her  own  pretty  bed  at  home ; 
and  Maggie  was  as  sound  asleep  as  if  it  were 
that  same  familiar  pillow.  One  dimpled  hand 
loosely  held  Mr.  Travers'  pencil,  and  the  pa- 
per lay  fluttering  unheeded  on  the  ground  at 
her  feet.  Bessie  picked  it  up  lest  the  breeze 
should  blow  it  away,  and  Maggie's  precious 
thoughts  be  lost.  But  it  was  evident  that  the 
letter  had  not  made  much  progress,  for  Bessie 
found  only  these  words  written :  — 

"  Oh,  dear,  darling  Uncle  Ruthven,  — 
Such  a  horrible,  dreadful  adventure ! " 


Old  Joe,  191 

She  would  not  disturb  any  of  the  others, 
but  sat  quiet  a  moment  watching  them,  then 
turned  her  eyes  again  towards  the  old  negro. 

"  I  think  I'll  go  speak  to  him,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "He  is  a  great  while  reading  his 
paper,  and  I  s'pose  he  can't  make  it  out  very 
well.  Maybe  I  could  help  him,  and  he  was 
very  kind  to  us." 

She  rose  softly,  and  walked  slowly  towards 
the  old  man.  He  looked  up  and  smiled,  say- 
ing,— 

"  Little  Miss  want  for  any  ting  ole  Joe  can 
do  for  her  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Bessie,  now  feeling 
rather  shy  of  asking  him  if  she  could  help 
him ;  then  after  a  moment's  pause  she  added, 
*'  You  were  reading  when  I  went  to  sleep,  and 
you  are  reading  now." 

"  Yes,  little  Miss,"  he  answered,  "  Joe  read 
most  all  de  time  when  no  trains  on  hand  and 
he  work  all  done  up." 

"  Is  it  a  little  newspaper  ? "  asked  Bessie. 

"  A  newspaper  ?  "  he  answered,  spreading 


192  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

the  sheet  on  his  knee,  and  laying  his  hand 
reverently  upon  it.  "  Yes,  Missy,  a  newspaper 
what  habs  great  news  in  it,  de  best  news  in 
de  worl', — de  news  how  de  Lord  Jesus  come 
down  to  save  sinners,  and  old  Joe  among 
'em.     Do  little  Miss  know  dat  news  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Bessie,  simply.  "  I  always 
knew  it.  I'm  glad  you  think  it's  good  news, 
Joe,  'cause  then  I  know  you  love  Him." 

"  Sure,  Missy,"  said  Joe,  "  how  I  gwine  for 
help  love  Him  when  I  knows  He  done  such 
a  ting  for  Joe  ?  " 

Feeling  on  the  instant  a  bond  of  sympathy 
between  herself  and  the  old  negro,  Bessie 
slipped  her  soft  little  hand  into  his  hard, 
black  palm,  as  she  said,  — 

"  But  some  people  who  know  it  don't  love 
Him." 

Joe  shook  his  head  sorrowfully. 

"  Yes,  an'  I  bery  sorry  for  dem  folks ;  but  I 
bery  glad  for^-ifbe,  and  for  little  Miss  too,  for 
I  'spect  she  love  Him  by  de  way  she  speak, 
an'  I  know  de  Lord  love  her." 


Old  Joe.  193 

"  Did  you  mean  that  was  out  of  the  Bible  ? " 
asked  Bessie,  looking  at  the  printed  sheet 
which  she  now  saw  was  torn,  scorched,  and 
soiled. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Joe,  triumphantly,  "it  out 
ob  de  Bible ; "  and  he  placed  it  in  Bessie's  hand. 

Yes,  it  was  out  of  the  Bible,  two  leaves : 
one  containing  the  second  chapter  of  Luke, 
with  the  account  of  the  Saviour's  birth ;  the 
other,  part  of  the  fifteenth  and  the  whole  of 
the  sixteenth  of  Mark,  relating  his  death  and 
resurrection. 

^  I  hab  de  beginnin'  an'  de  end,"  said  Joe,") 
"  an'  I  hab  some  more  too,  some  ob  my  Lord's 
own  bressed  words  what  He  preach  to  His 
people ; "  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
single  leaf,  containing  most  of  the  sixth  chap- 
ter of  Matthew. 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  of  the  Bible  ?  "  asked 
Bessie. 

"  Dat's  all.  Missy,  but  dey's  a  deal  ob 
preciousness  in  it :  dey's  words  what  bears 
readin'    ober   and   ober.     To   be    sure,   dey's 

13 


194  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

times  when  I  gets  longin'  for  more ;  but  I  jca 
says, '  Come  now,  old  Joe,  don't  be  so  ongrate- 
ful.  Ef  de  Lord  had  meant  you  to  hab  more 
He  would  ha'  sent  it  you ; '  and  I  tank  Him 
fbr  not  lettin'  dis  be  burn  up  an'  for  lettin'  me 
fin'  it  'fore  it  was  blowed  away  by  de  wind." 

"  Where  did  you  find  it,  and  how  did  it 
come  so  burnt  and  torn  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  Foun'  it  ober  by  Miss  Sims'  house.  'Spect 
she  use  it  for  her  bakin',  and  when  de  bread 
done  she  trow  it  out,  an'  de  Lord  He  let  old 
Joe  fin'  it.     Bress  His  holy  name." 

"  Do  you  mean  she  baked  her  bread  on  the 
leaves  of  the  Bible  ? "  asked  Bessie,  exceed- 
ingly shocked. 

"  'Pears  like  it.  Missy.  I  'spect  she  don't 
know  its  wort',  poor  woman !  "  said  Joe,  with 
a  pitying  thought  for  the  owner  of  the  pretty, 
comfortable  cottage,  who  was  so  much  poorer 
than  himself. 

Bessie  stood  looking  at  him  with  a  multi- 
tude of  feelings  struggling  for  expression  on 
her  sweet,  wistful,  little  face.     Lidignation  at 


Old  Joe,  195 

the  treatment  received  by  God's  H0I7  Word  ; 
pity,  respect,  and  tender  sympathy  for  the  old 
negro,  —  were  almost  too  much  for  her,  and 
lier  color  rose,  and  the  tears  came  to  her  eyes. 
"  Little  Miss  feel  so  bad  'bout  it  as  did  old 
Joe,"  he  said,  "  but.  Missy,  dat  was  de  Lord's 
way  to  help  old  Joe.  Long  time  he  ben 
wantin'  a  Bible  an'  save  up  he  money,  and 
hab  mos'  enough ;  an'  one  day  a  poor  feller 
come  along  what  hab  no  shoes  an'  hab  cut 
he  foot  awful,  an'  he  mus'  go  on  to  de  city 
to  see  his  chile  what  dyin' ;  an'  de  Lord  say 
m  my  heart,  '  Joe,  you  gib  dat  money  for 
shoes  for  dis  poor  feller,'  an'  I  couldn't  help 
it  no  way.  Missy,  an'  I  buys  him  de  shoes 
out  de  store.  An'  he  ain't  gone  but  little 
time,  an'  I  walkin'  roun'  by  Miss  Sims'  feelin' 
down  in  de  mout'  along  ob  my  Bible ;  an'  a 
piece  ob  paper  come  blowin'  to  my  feet,  an' 
I  picks  him  up,  an'  ain't  he  a  bit  out  my 
Lord's  book,  an'  I  sarch  roun'  an'  fin'  noder 
one.  Praise  de  name  ob  de  Lord  what  sen' 
Joe  such  comfort  till  he  hab  more  money !  " 


196  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Bessie  still  stood  silent,  her  heart  too  full 
for  words  at  the  simple  story  of  this  old  dis- 
ciple's self-sacrifice.  And  he  had  only  these 
three  leaves  out  of  God's  precious  Book,  while 
at  home  there  were  Bibles  without  number  for 
all  who  needed  them.  Oh !  if  she  only  had 
one  to  give  him.  But  here  there  was  none,  — 
yes,  there  was  too. 

Just  before  they  left  home,  grandmamma 
had  given  to  each  of  the  little  girls  a  Testa- 
ment and  Psalms  bound  together.  She  thought 
they  might  be  more  convenient  for  daily  use  in 
travelling,  than  the  handsomely  bound  Bibles 
which  they  generally  used  at  home  ;  and  if 
they  should  happen  to  be  lost  would  not  be  so 
much  regretted.  They  had  been  carried  in 
the  little  satchels  all  the  way ;  and  now,  as 
usual,  Bessie's  satchel  hung  by  her  side.  The 
book  was  not  large  ;  but  the  print  was  good  and 
clear,,  far  better  than  that  on  old  Joe's  cher- 
ished leaf,  and  what  a  world  of  riches  it  would 
hold  for  him. 

"  1  could  give  him  mine,"  thought  Bessie, 


Old  Joe.  197 

"  and  he  would  be  so  glad.  I  don't  b'lieve 
grandmamma  would  mind  if  I  gave  away  lier 
present  for  such  a  reason  as  this ;  and  Maggie 
will  let  me  use  hers  when  I  want  to  read.  I 
think  I  ought  to  give  it  to  him,  and  I  know  I 
would  like  to." 

"  S'pose  little  miss  kin  read  fus'  rate,"  said 
Joe,  interrupting  her  thoughts. 

*'  Mamma  says  I  can  read  very  nicely,"  she 
answered. 

"  Maybe  she  wouldn't  min'  readin'  out  a 
piece.  Some  words  most  too  hard  for  Joe,  l)ut 
he  kin  listen  fus'  rate." 

Bessie  drew  her  satchel  around,  and  unfast- 
ened it. 

"  Shall  I  read  you  some  out  of  my  own  little 
Testament  ? "  she  said,  drawing  forth  the 
book. 

Joe's  eyes  brightened. 

''  If  Missy  be  so  good,"  he  said,  eagerly. 
"  She  hab  it  all  dere  :  all  how  de  Lord  Jesus 
lib  an  die,  an  lib  again,  an'  talk  for  his  peo- 
ple?" 


198  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie.  "  What  would  you 
like  me  to  read  ?  " 

"  If  Missy  read  where  He  say,  *  Let  not  your 
heart  be  trouble  ;  an'  how  He  go  to  make  a 
place  for  dose  what  follers  Him." 

Bessie  found  the  fourteenth  of  John,  and 
read  it  carefully  and  distinctly,  the  old  man 
listening  intently.  When  she  came  to  tlie 
fourteenth  verse,  he  raised  his  hand  and 
said,  — 

"  I  fought  so.  'I  fought  dere  war  a  promise 
like  dat.  Now  I  know  sure  some  day  He  gib 
me  a  Bible,  'cause  I  allers  do  ax  it  in  His 
name,  an'  He  promise  allers  stan'  sure." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  thoughtfully ;  then 
added,  in  a  tone  of  some  self-reproach,  "  but, 
Joe,  I  forgot  that  promise  once  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  But  Missy  mind  it  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Bessie.  "  You  see  we 
had  such  a  dreadful  trouble,  Joe,  and  it's  not 
quite  over  yet.  Somehow  the  cars  took  us 
away  without  papa  and  mamma,  and  we  didn't 


Old  Joe,  199 

know  wliere  we  were  going,  and  there  was  no 
one  to  take  care  of  us.  It  was  worse  than 
once  when  I  was  lost  in  New  York  ;  cause 
that  was  my  own  country  wheie  I  live,  and 
the  policemen  were  there  ;  and  it  seemed  to 
me  that  even  our  Father  couldn't  help  us  in 
such  a  trouble  as  this.  But  in  a  minute  I 
knew  that  was  wrong,  and  I  asked  Him  to 
send  us  help  :  and  right  away  he  did ;  for  a 
kind  gentleman  came  who  we  saw  in  the  cars 
before,  and  he  is  taking  care  of  us,  and  will 
take  us  back  to  papa  and  mamma.  That  is 
the  gentleman  there  by  the  tree." 

Joe  nodded,  as  much  as  to  say  he  knew,  as 
indeed  he  did  ;  for  the  story  of  the  little  way- 
farers had  come  to  his  ears.  Little  he  thought 
when  he  first  heard  it,  what  a  blessing  they 
had  brought  to  him. 

"  And,  Joe,"  continued  the  child,  "  I  think 
maybe  our  Father  had  a  purpose  in  letting  us  be 
run  away  with,  and  bringing  us  to  this  place." 

"  Sure,  Missy,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  He 
allers  hab  a  purpose  in  what  He  do,  an'  a  good 


200  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

one  too  ;  but  sometimes  we  don't  see  it,  'cause 
we  ain't  fait'  enough." 

"  But  I  think  I  do  see  it  now,"  said  Bessie, 
her  tiny  fingers  still  resting  on  the  blessed  words 
of  Jesus'  promise.  "  I  think  He  sent  me  here, 
so  I  could  bring  you  my  little  Testament." 

"  Yes,  Missy.  I  'spect  He  did,  dat's  a  fac'," 
answered  Joe,  not  taking  in  at  once  that  she 
meant  to  give  him  the  book  ;  "an'  dose  words 
done  Joe  a  heap  of  good.  Yes  :  He  send  you 
here  for  read  'em  to  Joe." 

"  But  you  don't  understand,"  said  Bessie. 
"  I  mean  He  sent  me  here  to  give  you  the 
Testament.  I  think  He  meant  you  to  have  it, 
'cause  you  asked  it  in  His  name.  It  isn't  all 
the  Bible :  but  it  has  all  about  Jesus,  and  a 
good  deal  besides,  and  the  Psalms  too  ;  and  you 
will  love  it  very  much,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Missy  don't  mean  she  gwine  fur  gib  Joe 
her  own  book  ?  " 

''  Oh  yes,  I  do,"  answered  Bessie.  "  I  have 
another  Bible  at  home,  and  papa  would  give 
me  as  many  as  I  want,  and  I  can  read  my  sis* 


Old  yoe,  20I 

ter's  till  we  go  home.  I  am  going  to  give  it  to 
you  for  your  own,  Joe." 

The  old  man  sat  for  a  moment  speechless 
with  wonder  and  gratitude,  then  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands. 

"I  t'ank  de  Lord  fust,  and  you  next,  Missy," 
he  said,  when  he  removed  them.  "  I  t'ank 
Him,  and  bress  His  name,  fur  sen'  his  little 
white  dove  to  bring  His  word  to  ole  black  Joe. 
Yes,  yes  ;  for  sure  His  promise  stan'  in  all 
place  an'  all  time.  Missy  fin'  it,  an'  Joe  fin' 
it :  de  ole  an'  de  young,  de  black  an'  de 
white,  de  rich  an'  de  poor, —  all  who  lub  and 
trust  Him.     He  hear  all,  an'  do  for  all." 

He  took  the  baby  hand,  and  kissed  it  with 
a  tender  reverence  that  was  very  touching  to 
see,  but  which  the  child  in  her  innocence 
scarcely  understood. 

"  Shall  I  read  some  more  ?  "  she  asked. 

Joe  thankfully  assented ;  and  she  finished 
the  chapter,  and  read  also  the  fifteenth  then, 
closing  the  book,  placed  it  in  the  old  black 
man's  hand. 


202  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  De  Lord  know  what's  in  my  heart,  but  1 
can't  speak  it  out  no  way,"  he  said,  as  he  re- 
ceived it,  drawing  his  rough  coat-sleeve  across 
his  eyes ;  "  but,  Missy,  I  t'ink  it  a  great  t'ing 
to  be  de  Lord's  little  messenger  to  bring  His 
word  to  his  poor  ole  servant,  what  been  thirst- 
in'  for  it  so  long." 

Belle  had  wakened  while  Bessie  was  read- 
ing, and  sat  up  rather  surprised  at  her  little 
friend's  occupation,  but  did  not  interrupt  it. 

"  It's  just  like  my  dear  Bessie,"  she  said  to 
herself;  "she's  always  doing  somefin'  for 
somebody." 

She  looked  about  her  as  she  listened  to  the 
reading  ;  for  every  word  came  distinctly  in  the 
deep  stillness  around.  Maggie  was  asleep  still, 
and  Mr.  Travers'  eyes  remained  closed ;  but 
as  Belle  watched  his  face  she  said  to  herself,  — 

"  I  guess  he's  just  pretending.  If  he  was 
papa,  I'd  go  and  wake  him  up,  and  tell  him  he 
is.  Maybe  he  finks  Bessie  would  be  too  bash- 
ful to  read  before  him  if  she  fought  he  was 
awake." 


Old  Joe,  •  203 

Perhaps  Belle  was  right ;  for  Mr.  Tr avers 
woke  or  seemed  to  wake  very  suddenly  when 
Bessie  ceased  reading ;  and,  looking  at  liis 
watch,  said  that  it  was  time  for  the  train,  aiid 
they  must  rouse  the  sleeping  Maggie.  This 
was  done  ;  and  Maggie  woke  rather  indignant 
at  herself  for  going  to  sleep  at  all,  and  a  little 
ashamed  at  finding  all  the  others  aw^ake  before 
her. 

"  Why  !  Did  you  put  that  there,  sir  ?  "  she 
asked,  as  Mr.  Travers  picked  up  the  hat  which 
had  proved  such  a  comfortable  pillow,  and  put 
it  on  his  head. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  thought  the  tree 
rather  a  hard  resting-place  for  that  little  head 
in  spite  of  the  mass  of  curls  which  came  be- 
tween them,  so  when  I  saw  it  going  down  I 
popped  in  the  '  bad  hat '  without  your  knowing 

"  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  said 
Maggie.  "I  wish  I  could  do  something  for 
you." 

All  the  children  were  very  grateful  to  this 


204  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

kind  stranger  who  had  taken  such  good  care 
of  them,  and  Belle  said,  — 

"  I  wish  T  could  too.  If  I  was  big  I'd  ask 
you  when  your  birfday  was ;  and  I'd  make  you 
a  pair  of  slippers,  and  a  pin-cushion,  and  a 
watch-case,  and  every  fing  nice  for  a  birfday 
present." 

"  And  I'd  help,"  said  Maggie. 

"  And  I,"  said  Bessie. 

Here  was  ground  for  Maggie  to  build  a  new 
plan  upon ;  and,  in  the  few  minutes  which 
passed  before  the  train  came,  she  had  enough 
to  think  about  to  keep  her  from  feeling  very 
impatient  for  its  arrival. 

And  there  it  came,  rushing  up  the  long  line 
of  rail,  —  yet  hardly  fast  enough  for  the  little 
ones  who  had  been  so  long  away  from  their 
dear  friends,  —  hailed  with  clapping  of  hands, 
dancing  steps,  and  glad  exclamations :  never 
was  a  train  more  welcome. 

The  place  was  alive  in  a  moment.  Women 
and  children  came  out  to  the  doors  and  gates 
of    the    cottages,    dogs     barked,    and    hens 


Old  Jut,  205 

cackled.  Half  a  dozen  men,  white  and  colored, 
seemed  to  spring  out  of  the  ground,  ready 
to  busy  themselves  on  the  arrival  of  the  cArs ; 
and  old  Joe  drew  up  his  wheelbarrow  to  the 
side  of  the  track,  ready  for  any  chance  trunk 
or  box  which  might  need  to  be  wheeled  away, 
and  bring  him  a  few  pennies.  Joe  was  a  rich 
man  now,  to  be  sure,  rich  in  the  wealth  which 
should  pave  with  shining  gold  the  path  he 
must  tread  to  the  heavenly  mansion  his 
Saviour  had  gone  to  prepare  for  him :  but  he 
must  still  have  a  care  for  his  few  worldly 
needs  ;  and  now  that  his  one  great  desire  had 
been  granted,  he  would  yet  put  by  something 
that  he  might  have  a  little  to  help  along  such 
of  his  Lord's  work  as  should  be  given  into  his 
hand. 

His  hand  was  shaken,  not  only  by  the  three 
children,  but  also  by  Mr.  Travers ;  and  they 
were  gone :  but  their  coming  had  brought 
light  and  gladness  to  old  Joe ;  and,  in  his  own 
simple  language,  he  "  will  nebber  disremember 
dis  day  while  de  Lord  remembers  me." 


2o6  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

There  they  were,  —  mamma,  and  the  two 
papas,  baby,  nurse,  and  Daphne,  —  still  at  the 

station  at ,  and  watching  as  eagerly  for 

the  train  which  was  to  bring  back  the  sorely 
missed  darlings,  as  those  same  little  darlings 
were  looking  for  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
dearly  loved  faces  of  their  ''  own  people." 
What  joy  there  was !  What  huggings  and 
kissings !  some  happy  tears  too ;  and  as  for 
Mx.  Travers,  if  he  had  had  six  arms  to  be 
shaken  instead  of  two,  they  would  all  have 
been  in  use  at  once.  There  was  some  time 
to  spare  before  the  arrival  of  the  train 
which  was  to  carry  them  on  the  right  route, 
which  had  been  missed  that  morning ;  and 
it  would  be  still  longer  before  kind  Mr. 
Travers  would  be  able  to  proceed  on  the 
journey  he  had  so  generously  interrupted,  at 
some  inconvenience  to  himself,  for  the  sake 
of  the  little  fellow-passengers  who  had  so 
unconsciously  attracted  his  notice  that  morn- 
ing. 

They  gathered  in   the   small   room,  which 


Old  Joe,  207 

seemed  large  enough  to  hold  them  all  now, 
and  Mr.  Travers  was  thanked  over  and  over 
again,  his  address  taken  by  Mr.  Bradford, 
and  a  promise  drawn  from  him  that  he  would 
make  his  house  his  home  when  he  should 
come  to  New  York.  More  than  this,  Maggie 
privately  drew  from  him  the  date  of  his  "  birf- 
day,"  which  happened  to  be  on  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  December :  and  you  may  like  to  know 
that  this  "  plan  "  of  Maggie's  was  successfully 
carried  out ;  and,  last  Christmas,  Mr.  Travers 
received  a  box  containing  a  pair  of  slippers 
worked  by  Maggie,  a  pin-cushion  by  Bessie, 
and  a  watch-case  by  Belle.  I  do  not  believe 
that  Mr.  Travers  thought  the  less  of  them 
because  there  were  some  crooked  stitches  in 
them,  —  especially  in  the  two  last,  —  and  that 
the  pocket  of  the  watch-case  was  so  small  that 
by  no  possibility  could  a  watch  be  squeezed 
therein. 

But  he  did  not  part  from  the  children  that 
day  without  some  token  of  remembrance,  for 
when  Maggie  inquired  about  his  birthday,  and 
repeated,  — 


2o8  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

"  I  would  so  like  to  do  something  for 
you,  sir,  'cause  you  was  so  kind  to  us,"  lie 
answered, — 

'-'•  You  can  do  something  for  me,  Maggie. 
Give  me  your  little  Testament,  if  you  will ; 
and  when  I  look  at  it,  it  will  bring  back  to 
me  some  very  sweet  recollections  of  this  day." 

Dear  Maggie,  only  too  happy  when  she 
could  give  or  do  any  thing  which  brought 
pleasure  to  another,  readily  consented,  think 
ing  as  Bessie  had  done,  that  "  grandmamma 
wouldn't  mind  when  she  knew  the  reason  ;  '* 
and  the  second  little  Testament  went  forth 
on  its  mission  of  love  and  life,  in  the  hands 
of  a  new  owner. 

And  pray  what  do .  you  think  had  been 
that  ungrateful  baby's  greeting  to  her  little 
sisters'  new  friend  ?  Nothing  less  than  that 
oft-repeated  ''Oh,  bad  hat !  "  But  being  rested 
and  at  her  ease  now,  she  was  not  fretful,  and 
was  more  astonished  than  displeased  at  its 
reappearance.  We  ought  not  to  call  her  un- 
grateful either.      She  was   glad  to   see  her 


Old  Joe,  209 

sisters,  and  offered  plenty  of  "  love  Mag- 
gies' "  and  "  love  Bessies',"  which  meant  a 
tight  squeeze  of  the  little  arms  about  the 
neck ;  but  she  could  not  understand  the  dis- 
tress and  anxiety  their  absence  had  occasioned 
on  all  sides,  nor  did  she  know  what  care  had 
been  bestowed  upon  them  by  the  owner  of  the 
hat. 

But  Mr.  Travers  having  taken  off  the  hat 
and  placed  it  beneath  his  chair,  Baby  made 
the  most  of  her  opportunities,  and,  seating 
herself  on  the  carpet  behind  him,  pulled  it 
forth,  and  turned,  it  over  and  over  on  her  lap. 
Finding  on  a  closer  acquaintance  that  it  was 
not  so  objectionable  as  she  had  thought  it,  she 
proceeded  to  try  it  on ;  and,  nothing  daunted 
by  the  fact  that  she  was  nearly  extinguished 
by  it,  was,  greatly  to  the  amusement  of  all, 
presently  discovered  toddling  blindly  about 
the  room,  with  her  small  head  and  dimpled 
shoulders  quite  hidden ;  while  from  beneath 
the  hat  came  a  muffled  voice  saying,  in  lisping 
tones,  — 

14 


2IO 


Bessie  on  her  Travels, 


*'  Nice  hat !  oh,  nice  hat  1  Baby  on  nice 
hat.'' 

Bessie  almost  fell  from  her  mother's  lap, 
and  Belle  from  her  father's  knee,  with  laugh- 
ing at  this  joke,  and  Maggie  hopped  around 
and  squealed  in  an  ecstasy  of  fun  and  delight ; 
and  even  the  grown  people  could  not  help 
laughing  heartily  at  the  little  "  turncoat,"  as 
nurse  called  her  pet. 


IX. 


KATE, 


T  would  take  too  long  to  follow  Mag- 
gie and  Bessie  through  all  their 
travels,  or  to  visit  all  the  places 
visited  by  them,  going  from  one  to  another 
by  easy  stages,  as  best  suited  mamma ;  and 
staying  a  day  or  two,  or  a  week  or  two, 
according  to  the  amount  of  interest  and 
pleasure  they  found  in  each.  Charleston  and 
Richmond,  Virginia  Springs,  the  famous 
Natural  Bridge,  and  many  another  spot,  were 
described  in  Maggie's  letters  to  her  friends 
at  home ;  but  the  place  of  which  she  most 
delighted  to  write,  because  there  she  found 
the  most  to  describe,  was  Washington.  Hero 
is  one  of  her  letters  from  that  city :  — 


212  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  My  beloved  Uncle  Horace,  —  I  think 
Washington  is  the  most  interesting  city  I  ever 
met  with.  It  has  so  much  to  see  and  build- 
ings which  are  quite  surprising  and  such  a 
credit  to  themselves  and  the  people  who  built 
them  that  I  am  proud  of  the  nation  to  which  I 
belong.  But  the  most  interesting  place  I  find 
is  the  Pattern  Office  where  are  to  be  seen 
thousands  and  thousands  of  things  one  can 
never  be  tired  of  looking  at.  There  are  jewels 
and  beautiful  birds  and  butterflies,  and  very 
nasty  bugs  and  spiders  and  oh !  Uncle  Horace 
an  awful  spider  so  large  with  his  legs  out  he 
is  as  big  as  a  dinner  plate,  I  am  thankful  I  do 
not  live  in  that  country,  for  he  bites  too  and 
the  people  die,  and  I  don't  see  the  use  of  spi- 
ders but  I  suppose  some,  or  God  would  not 
have  made  them.  And  there  are  machines 
but  we  children  did  not  care  much  for  those 
and  Indian  things  very  interesting  and  all 
kinds  of  curiosities  and  beautiful  toys.  But 
the  most  interesting  of  all  General  Washing- 
ton's furniture  and  his  clothes.     But  his  fur- 


Kate.  213 

niture  was  very  shabby  and  I  think  his  grate- 
ful country  ought  to  make  him  a  present  of 
some  better  and  his  coat  —  why.  Uncle  Horace 
it  was  all  ragged  and  if  it  was  not  the  father 
of  his  country's  I  would  say  it  looked  like  an 
old  beggar  man's.  But  please  do  not  think  I 
am  a  traitor  because  I  say  this,  for  I  would 
not  be  such  a  thing  I  hope,  nor  a  Benedict 
Arnold  either,  I  shan't  call  him  Mr.  for  he  is 
not  good  enough,  and  I  think  he  was  the 
meanest  man  that  ever  lived  not  to  take  his 
own  punishment  but  to  let  poor  Mr.  Andre  be 
killed  for  him.  And  Bessie  and  I  do  think 
the  father  of  his  country  might  have  let  Mr. 
Andre  off  that  once  if  he  would  promise  never 
to  do  so  again  and  we  are  afraid  he  forgot  that 
time  that  Jesus  wanted  us  to  forgive  one 
another  as  He  forgave  us.  Papa  says  he  had 
to  make  an  example  of  Mr.  Andre  but  I  think 
he  would  have  been  a  better  example  himself 
if  he  had  showed  mercy.  And  in  the  Pattern 
Office  are  some  stufed  animals  some  very 
pretty  and  some  ugly  as  is  in  the  nature  of 


214  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

animals  to  be,  for  we  all  know  tliey  did  not 
make  themselves  any  more  than  people  who 
are  some  ugly  and  some  very  handsome  and 
they  can't  help  it.  And  so  I  don't  see  why 
they  have  animals  for  patterns  for  no  man  nor 
woman  either  could  make  an  animal  but  only 
God,  but  they  are  interesting  to  see  though  it 
must  be  disagreeable  to  stuff  them. 

^'We  saw  the  President  and  we  are  very 
much  disappointed  for  he  looks  just  like 
another  man,  not  a  bit  better,  and  we  did  not 
expect  it  of  him  but  thought  he  would  be  very 
grand  and  somehow  different.  I  don't  care  a 
bit  if  I  never  see  another  President.  I  think 
it  is  real  mean.  But  he  has  a  very  grand 
house  and  he  lets  people  come  in  and  see  it 
which  is  very  kind  of  him,  for  I  would  not 
like  people  I  did  not  know  to  come  in  my 
house,  and  pass  remarks  about  it ;  but  Papa 
says  Presidents  and  kings  and  things  of  that 
kind  have  to  do  a  great  many  things  they  do 
not  like  very  much,  so  I  hope  I  will  never  be 
a  President  or  his  wife  either  and  if  he  asks 


Kate,  215 

me  to  marry  him  I  will  certainly  say  no  and 
Bessie  will  too. 

''  There  are  a  great  many  lovely  toys  in 
the  Pattern  Office  but  I  will  not  say  I  wish 
they  were  mine  because  I  cannot  have  them 
so  it  is  of  no  use  and  it  might  be  to  break  the 
tenth  commandment.  Papa  says  they  belong 
to  the  government,  but  I  don't  see  what  the 
government  which  is  nothing  but  a  lot  of  big 
men  wants  of  playthings,  and  I  think  they 
would  be  much  more  use  if  children  had  them 
to  take  pleasure  in  them.  If  they  were  mine 
I  would  give  the  largest  share  to  my  Bessie, 
and  then  divide  them  with  all  my  children 
friends  and  send  some  to  the  little  cripples' 
hospital. 

"  To  morrow  Papa  is  going  to  take  us  to  the 
Smithsonian  Institiide  where  they  say  are  a 
great  many  curious  and  wonderful  things  and 
lots  of  animals  dead  ones  I  mean  from  all 
parts  of  the  world.  Which  must  be  very  in- 
structif  and  if  I  do  not  improve  my  advantages 
I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  myself  and  deserve 


2i6  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

to  be  a  dunce.  Mamma  says  it  is  time  for  us 
to  go  to  bed,  which  I  wish  it  was  not  and 
I  wish  there  was  no  such  place  as  bed  but 
I  do  not  tell  dear  Mamma  so  or  she  might 
think  I  did  not  honor  her  and  I  hope  I  may 
never,  be  such  an  unnatural  child.  So  good 
night  dear  Uncle  Horace  and  Aunt  May  and 
May  Bessie  the  same  from  your  devoted 
till  death  do  us  part  friend 

"  Maggie.'* 

They  did  not  stay  long  in  Washington ;  for 
the  weather  was  growing  warm  and  oppressive, 
and  our  party  were  anxious  to  hurry  north- 
ward, where  it  was  cooler  and  pleasanter. 
"We  will  not  stop  with  them  at  Baltimore  or 
Philadelphia,  where  nothing  particularly  inter- 
esting occurred;  or  even  in  their  own  city, 
where  they  stopped  for  a  few  days  to  rest  and 
have  a  sight  of  all  the  dear  home-faces,  as 
well  as  to  leave  all  the  "  curiosities  and  wonder- 
ful memories,"  as  Maggie  called  them,  which 
they  had  collected  in  their  southern  rambles : 


Kate,  217 

but  start  oif  with  them  once  more  on  their 
tether  journeyings. 

They  had  parted  from  Mr.  Powers  and 
Belle  :  but  Uncle  Ruthven  and  Aunt  Bessie 
had  joined  the  party,  adding  much  to  the 
enjoyment  of  all ;  and  they  were  now  on  their 
way  to  beautiful  Trenton  and  Niagara  Falls. 

A  young  lady  and  two  gentlemen  were  com- 
ing up  the  brass-covered  staircase  of  the  steam- 
boat which  was  carrying  our  friends  up  the 
river. 

"  Hallo  !  "  said  one  of  the  latter  as  some 
small  object  fell  at  his  feet.  ''  What  is  this  ? 
Who  is  pelting  me  with  flowers  ?  No  :  it's  not 
a  flower  either.  What  is  it,  Mary  ?  "  and  he 
stooped  and  picked  it  up,  turning  it  round  and 
round  very  gingerly,  as  if  afraid  it  would  fall 
to  pieces  in  his  fingers.  ^'  Looks  like  a  small 
edition  of  that  thing  on  your  head." 

"  Just  what  it  is,"  replied  his  sister.  "  It 
is  a  doll's  hat.  Ah  !  there  is  the  little  owner, 
I  suppose,"  and  she  looked  up  at  Bessie  who 
was  peeping  over  the  banisters  with  watchful, 


2i8  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

earnest  eyes,  and  holding  Margaret  Colonel 
Horace  in  her  arms. 

"  Are  you  the  young  lady  who  has  been 
pelting  me  with  dolls'  hats,  and  trying  to 
make  me  think  they  were  flowers  ? "  asked 
the  young  man  as  he  came  to  the  top  of  the 
stairs. 

"  It  is  only  one  hat,  and  I  didn't  try  to 
make  you"  think  it  was  a  flower,  and  I  didn't 
pelt  you  with  it,  and  I'm  only  a  little  girl," 
answered  Bessie,  demurely.  "  It  fell  ofi"  my 
dolly's  head ;  but  I'm  very  glad  you  came  up 
just  then,  before  any  one  stepped  on  it." 

The  gentleman  put  the  hat  on  the  forefinger 
of  one  hand,  and  twirled  it  slowly  round  with 
the  other,  while  Bessie  looked  on,  rather 
aggravated. 

"  Give  it  to  her,  George  ;  aren't  you  ashamed 
to  tease  her  ?  "  said  the  young  lady. 

"  What  will  you  give  me  for  it  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  I'll  give  you  '  thank  you,'  sir,"  replied  the 
child. 

'^  Nothing  else  ?  " 


Kate,  219 

"  No,  sir,  nothing  else,"  ans^vered  Bessie, 
with  as  much  dignity  as  any  young  lady  could 
have  worn. 

He  felt  the  silent  reproof  of  the  child's 
manner ;  and,  ashamed  of  having  teased  her, 
he  handed  her  the  little  hat,  saying,  almost 
without  intending  it,  — 

*'  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  she 
said,  now  smiling  again.  "  I  was  'fraid  it 
would  be  spoiled  'fore  I  could  call  some  one  to 
pick  it  up." 

*'  Why  didn't  you  run  down,  and  pick  it  up 
yourself?  "  asked  the  young  lady. 

''  I  thought  maybe  mamma  wouldn't  want 
me  to,"  said  Bessie,  putting  on  her  doll's  hat. 
"  She  told  me  on  the  Savannah  steamer  never 
to  go  up  and  down  the  stairs  alone  ;  and  I 
didn't  know  if  she  would  like  me  to  here." 

"  Here's  a  match  for  Kate's  paragon  of  obe- 
dience and  straightforwardness,"  said  the 
young  lady,  laughing  as  she  turned  to  the 
other  gentleman  who  had  not  yet  spoken. 


220  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  What  is  your  name,  little  lady  ? "  he 
asked. 

Bessie  looked  up  at  him.  Where  had  she 
seen  that  face  before  ?  Those  sparkling  black 
eyes,  the  roguish  curve  of  the  lips,  seemed  very 
familiar  to  her  ;  and  yet  she  was  sure  the  gen- 
tleman was  a  stranger,  as  the  others  were. 

But  she  had  a  fancy  that  these  same  stran- 
gers were  making  rather  free  with  her  ;  and 
she  put  on  her  dignified  air  again  as  she 
answered  slowly,  — 

"  Bessie  Bradford,  sir,"  and  turned  away. 
But  her  steps  were  again  checked  as  she  heard 
her  last  questioner  exclaim,  — 

"  Why,  it  is  Kate's  pet !  The  paragon  her- 
self! " 

"  Kate's  pet !  "  The  old  school-name  so 
often  given  to  her  by  the  older  girls  at  Miss 
Ashton's,  and  now  uttered  by  the  owner  of  the 
black  eyes  which  seemed  so  familiar,  made  it 
at  once  clear  to  her  who  it  was.  Perhaps  it 
was  just  as  well  that  she  did  not  know  what 
paragon  meant :  she  only  thought  it  rather  an 


Kate,  221 

ugly-sounding  name,  and  at  another  time  she 
might  have  been  displeased  and  thought  it  was 
intended  to  tease  her ;  but,  as  it  flashed  upon 
her  who  he  was,  vexation  was  lost  in  pleased 
surprise. 

"  Oh !  '^  she  exclaimed,  in  the  tone  she 
sometimes  used  when  she  was  both  gratified 
and  astonished,  and  looking  up  at  him  with 
flushed  and  sparkling  face. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  the  gentleman,  laughing  ;  as 
did  both  of  his  companions. 

"  I  just  believe  you  are  Katie's  brother," 
cried  the  child. 

"  That  is  an  accusation  I  cannot  deny,"  he 
said,  much  amused.  "  Yes  ;  I  am  Charlie 
Maynard.     But  how  did  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  'Cause  you  look  a  great  deal  like  her,  sir," 
answered  Bessie  ;  "  and  she  used  to  talk  about 
you  very  often.  She  thinks  you  are  very 
nice." 

"  That  shows  her  good  taste,"  he  said. 

"  She  is  very,  very  nice  herself,"  said  the 
little    girl,   no  longer  feeling  as  if  she  were 


222  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

talking  to  a  stranger ;  "  and  I  am  verj  fond 
of  her.  But  it  is  a  great  while  since  I  have 
seen  her.  Will  you  please  to  give  her  my  love 
when  you  see  her,  sir  ?  " 

"  On  one  condition,"  he  answered  ;  "  that 
you  come  with  me  now  and  let  me  show  you 
something.  Something  I  think  you  will  like 
to  see,"  he  added,  seeing  that  she  hesitated. 

"  I  must  ask  mamma  first,"  she  said.  "  She 
only  gave  me  leave  to  wait  here  until  Uncle 
Ruthven  and  Maggie  came  up." 

She  ran  to  where  her  mother  sat,  and  eager- 
ly asked  if  she  might  go  with  Katie  Maynard's 
brother  to  "  see  something."  Mamma  gave 
permission  ;  and,  putting  her  hand  confidingly 
in  that  of  her  new  acquaintance,  Bessie  suf- 
fered him  to  lead  her  to  the  other  side  of  the 
boat. 

Like  what  he  had  brought  her  to  see  !  Bes- 
sie thought  so  indeed,  when  she  caught  sight 
of  the  "  something  ; "  and  Margaret  Colonel 
Horace  nearly  fell  from  her  mamma's  arms  as 
the  latter  sprang  into  those  of  Katie  Maynard 
herself. 


Kate,  223 

Kate  was  as  much  delighted  and  surprised 
as  the  child,  and  kissed  Bessie  over  and  over 
again  ;  while  the  loving  little  soul  nestled  close 
to  her,  and  looked  up  with  eyes  which  left  no 
need  for  words. 

Then  Bessie  had  to  be  introduced  to  Katie's 
father  and  mother,  who  were  with  her  ;  but  her 
brother  said  there  was  no  occasion  for  him  to 
go  through  with  this  ceremony,  since  he  and 
Bessie  had  already  made  acquaintance  ;  and  he 
took  a  good  deal  of  credit  to  himself  for  having 
guessed  that  the  demure  little  damsel,  who  was 
so  careful  about  obeying  her  mamma,  might 
be  his  sister's  favorite  and  pet,  whose  name  he 
had  so  often  heard.  The  other  lady  and  gen- 
tleman were  friends  of  the  Maynards,  and 
travelling  with  them ;  and  the  whole  party 
were,  like  our  friends,  bound  for  Niagara. 

"  And  where  is  the  honey-bee  ?  "  asked  Kate, 
who  had  heard  Colonel  Rush  call  Maggie  by 
that  name,  and  from  that  time  used  it  for  her. 
"  We'll  go  and  bring  her  too." 

But  Maggie,  —  who  had  by  this  time  come  up- 


2  24  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

stairs,  having  chosen  to  go  down  with  Uncle 
Ruthven  to  buy  some  papers  and  "  see  what 
she  could  see  "  below,  while  Bessie  preferred 
to  wait  above,  —  Maggie  was  by  no  means  to  be 
persuaded  to  join  a  party  consisting  of  so  many 
strangers.  So  Kate,  who  was  really  rejoiced 
to  see  her  little  schoolmates,  and  wanted  to 
talk  to  both,  must  needs  accept  Bessie's  invita- 
tion, and  stay  with  them  for  a  while. 

"  For  you  know  you're  not  a  bit  troubled 
with  bashfulness,"  said  Bessie,  innocently ; 
"  and  poor  Maggie  is  ;  "  a  speech  which  made 
Kate's  friends  smile,  and  Kate  herself  laugh 
outright. 

But  Bessie  was  mistaken  ;  for  Kate,  in  spite 
of  her  laugh,  was  for  once  "  a  bit  troubled  with 
bashfulness  "  before  Mrs.  Bradford.  For  she 
had  a  little  feeling  of  consciousness  in  the 
presence  of  Bessie's  mother,  which  rose  from 
the  recollection  of  the  affair  of  the  clock  at 
school,  and  the  knowledge  that  Mrs.  Bradford 
had  heard  of  it.  Mrs.  Ashton  had  told  Kate 
that  she  had  thought  it  only  right  to  tell  Mrs. 


Kate,  225 

Bradford  of  Bessie's  trial,  and  lier  steadfast  re 
sistance  to  temptation  ;  and  Kate,  wlio  had  not 
seen  Mrs.  Bradford  since  the  day  of  the  giving 
of  the  prizes,  felt  a  little  doubtful  how  she  would 
be  received.  But  the  lady's  kind  and  friendly 
greeting  soon  put  the  young  girl  at  her  ease, 
and  she  felt  there  was  no  need  for  any  feeling 
of  embarrassment  now  that  her  own  conscience 
was  at  rest.  She  had  a  pleasant  talk  with  the 
little  girls,  hearing  of  their  travels  and  adven- 
tures, and  telling  them  in  return  of  all  that 
had  taken  place  at  school  after  they  left. 

The  acquaintance  between  the  young  folks 
brought  about  one  between  their  elders,  which 
gave  much  pleasure  all  around ;  and,  during 
the  next  two  or  three  weeks,  the  two  parties 
saw  a  good  deal  of  one  another. 

The  children  took  a  great  fancy  to  the 
younger  Mr.  Maynard,  Kate's  brother,  as  he 
did  to  them  ;  and  even  Maggie  was  quite 
friendly  with  him  from  the  time  tliat  he  came 
and  took  his  place  near  his  sister,  as  slie  sat 
a  little  apart  with  Bessie  on  her  lap,  and  Mag- 

16 


226  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

gie  close  beside  her,  talking  of  all  that  had 
happened  since  they  parted.  He  was  very 
much  amused  with  Bessie's  quaint  ways  and 
sayings,  and  with  Maggie's  glowing  descrip- 
tions of  all  they  had  seen  and  done  during 
their  travels  ;  but  he  did  not  let  his  amusement 
appear,  and  they  talked  away  without  restraint 
before  him.  Now  and  then  he  would  join  in 
the  conversation,  putting  a  question,  or  making 
a  remark,  as  though  he  were  interested  in 
what  they  were  saying,  but  not  so  as  to  em- 
barrass them  at  all ;  and  he  was  so  kind  and 
pleasant  in  his  manner  to  them,  that  tliey  both 
speedily  honored  him  with  their  "  approval," 
and  a  place  in  the  ranks  of  their  friends. 

Not  so  with  Mr.  Temple,  Charlie  Maynard's 
companion.  When,  after  a  time,  he  sauntered 
up  and  joined  the  group,  he  soon  put  a  check 
upon  the  merry  chatter  of  the  little  girls. 
Not  intentionally,  for  he  had  more  to  say  to 
them,  and  asked  more  questions  than  Mr. 
Maynard  himself:  but  it  was  done  with  a  tone 
and  manner  which   they  did  rot  like  ;  in  a 


Kate,  227 

half-mocking  way,  which  irritated  Bessie,  and 
brought  on  a  fit  of  shyness  with  Maggie.  In- 
deed, the  latter  would  not  stand  it  long,  but 
moved  away  to  her  mamma. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ? "  asked  her  mother, 
seeing  that  something  had  disturbed  her. 

"  That  hateful  man,  mamma,"  said  Maggie, 
lowering  her  voice  that  she  might  not  be 
heard  by  the  object  of  her  displeasure. 

"  Do  not  call  names,  dear,"  said  her  mother. 
"  What  has  he  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  He  talks  disagreeable  nonsense,  mamma." 

"  I  thought  you  liked  nonsense  once  in  a 
wliile,"  said  Mr.  Stanton. 

"  Oh !  it's  not  nice,  amusing  nonsense  like 
yours.  Uncle  Ruthven.  He  talks  compliments, 
and  compliments  he  don't  mean  either.  He 
is  horrid,  and  very  silly,  too." 

"Perhaps  he  thinks  you  like  it,"  said  Mr. 
Stanton. 

"  He  has  no  business  to  think  so,"  said 
Maggie,  waxing  more  indignant.  "  We  were 
having  a  very  nice  time  with  Miss  Kate,  and 


228  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

he  made  himself  a  great  interruption.  He 
teased  us  about  our  dolls ;  and  then  he  asked 
us  a  great  many  ridiculous  questions,  and 
talked  a  great  many  foolish  things  about  Bes- 
sie's eyes  and  my  hair.  If  it  was  grown  ladies 
he  talked  to  that  way  they  would  say  he  was 
impertinent,  and  I  don't  see  what  children 
have  to  stand  it  for.     It  is  horrid  nonsense." 

Mamma  thought  it  horrid  nonsense  too.  She 
did  not  like  to  have  such  things  said  to  her 
little  girls,  and  was  glad  that  they  were  too 
wise  to  be  pleased  with  such  foolish  flattery, 
which  might  otherwise  have  made  them  vain. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Temple  was  continuing  his 
*'  horrid  nonsense  "  to  Bessie,  in  spite  of  more 
than  one  reproof  from  Kate  and  her  brother ; 
but  the  little  "  princess  "  received  it  in  the 
most  disdainful  silence,  which  greatly  amused 
not  only  the  two  last,  but  also  the  offender 
himself.  But  at  last  it  became  more  than 
Bessie  could  bear,  and  she  too  slipped  from 
Kate's  hold  and  went  back  to  her  mother. 
From   this   time,   the   children    avoided    Mr 


Kate.  229 

Temple  as  much  as  possible  ;  and,  if  they  could 
help  it,  would  not  join  the  Maynards  when  he 
was  with  them. 

"  What  is  the  reason  you  don't  hke  George 
Temple  ? "  asked  Kate  of  Bessie  one  day. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Bessie,  coloring :  for 
she  did  not  know  she  had  made  her  dislike  so 
plain  ;  and  she  really  found  it  difficult  to  put 
in  words  the  cause  of  her  annoyance.  "  I 
don't  know.  Miss  Kate  ;  but  I  don't  like  him. 
I  believe  I  don't  approve  of  young  men,"  she 
added  doubtfully,  as  if  slie  were  not  quite  sure 
of  the  latter  fact. 

*'  But  you  like  Charlie,  don't  you  ?  "  said 
Kate,  smiling,  "  and  he  is  a  young  man, 
younger  than  Mr.  Temple." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Bessie,  with  an  air  o." 
deep  reflection,  "but  —  then  —  I  b'lieve  the 
reason  is,  that  Mr.  Temple  is  not  so  very 
gentleman  as  Mr.  Maynard.  Your  brother 
plays  with  us,  and  makes  fun  for  us,  but  he 
is  just  as  polite  as  if  we  were  big  ladies ;  but 
I  think  Mr.  Temple  is  one  of  those  people  who 


230  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

seem  to  think  cliildren  don't  have  feelings. 
You  know  there  is  such  a  kind  of  people.  Miss 
Kate." 

"  She  knows  the  ring  of  the  pure  metal,'' 
said  Kate  afterwards  to  her  mother,  "  and 
distinguishes  the  true  gentleman  in  heart  and 
feeling,  as  well,  or  better  than  her  elders. 
She  did  not  mean  her  words  for  me,  I  am 
sure  ;  but  I  could  not  but  remember  that  it  is 
not  so  long  since  I  was  myself  one  of  that 
"  kind  of  people  who  seem  to  think  children 
don't  have  feelings  ;  "  and  Kate  laughed  at  the 
recollection  of  Bessie's  solemn  air,  when  she 
had  pronounced  her  opinion  of  Mr.  Temple. 
"  Poor  Maggie  !  how  I  used  to  tease  her." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Kate,"  said  Mrs.  Maynard, 
"  grown  people,  I  fear,  too  often  forget  how 
easily  a  child's  feelings  are  wounded ;  how 
the  word,  the  look,  or  laugh,  which  to  us  is  a 
matter  of  indifference,  or  some  passing  mo- 
ment's amusement,  may  mortify  and  grieve 
8ome  sensitive  little  heart,  and  leave  there  a 
sore  spot  long  after  we  have  forgotten  it." 


Kate,  23 1 

"Yes,"  said  Kate,  regretfully,  "my  con- 
Bcience  is  not  at  ease  on  that  point.  And  you 
may  thank  darling  Bessie,  mother,  for  givhig 
me  more  than  one  innocent  lesson  in  consid- 
eration and  thoughtfulness  for  others,  Ijoth 
old  and  young.  The  honey-bee,  too,  with  all 
her  heedlessness,  —  and  she  is  naturally  a  care- 
less little  thing,  —  leaves  no  sting  behind  her, 
for  she  never  forgets  the  rule  which  she  calls, 
*  doing  unto  others.'  " 


MAGGIE'S    POEM. 


SN'T  it  a  nice  day,  Maggie  ?  "  said 
Bessie,  coming  to  her  sister,  who 
was  leaning  with  both  arms  on  the 
railing  which  guarded  the  upper-deck,  watch- 
ing the  flashing  water,  the  magnificent  moun- 
tains, the  blue  sky,  and  all  the  other  beauties 
around  and  above  her. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Maggie ;  "  and  we're 
having  such  a  nice  sail,  except  for  that  man. 
Bessie,  my  head  is  quite  full  of  poetry  about 
it." 

"  Write  some  then,"  said  Bessie  ;  "  and  we'll 
send  it  to  my  soldier.  He'll  be  so  pleased. 
I'll  ask  papa  for  a  pencil  and  some  paper ; " 
and  she  made  her  request  to  her  father,  who 
let  her  take  his    memorandum-book  for  the 


Maggie's  Poem.  233 

purpose  ;  and,  furnished  with  this  and  excited 
by  all  the  beauty  around,  Maggie  broke  forth 
into  the  following  verses,  the  first  of  which 
was  thought  remarkably  fine  by  Bessie  and 
herself,  as  being  not  only  extremely  poetical, 
but  also  as  containing  a  great  deal  of  religious 
sentiment  very  toucliingly  expressed  :  — 

"poem  on  a  steamboat  sail. 

"  I  have  so  very  many  mercies, 
I  have  to  write  them  down  in  verses ; 
Because  my  heart  in  praise  goes  up 
For  such  a  full  and  heaped-up  cup. 

"  But,  ah  !  'tis  my  unhappy  fate 
To  see  on  board  a  e  an  I  hate  : 
I  know  I  should  not  be  so  mad ; 
But  he  behaves  so  very  bad." 

"  '  Hate  '  there  only  means  '  can't  bear,'  " 
said  Maggie,  when  she  had  finished  this  last 
verse  and  read  it  aloud  to  her  sister :  "  but  you 
see  '  can't  bear '  don't  rhyme  very  well  with 
*  fate  ; '  and  I  want  to  put  that,  it  is  such  a  very 
poetical  word,  and  sounds  so  very  grown-up-y. 
I  had  to   put  that  verse  about  Mr.  Temple 


234  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

for  a  relief  to  my  feelings  ;   and  '  hate  '  must 
be  excused.*' 

"  That  first  verse  is  lovely,"  said  Bessie. 
"  It  sounds  so  very  nice ;  and,  besides,  it  is 
so  pious." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie.  "  I  thought  I'd  better 
begin  with  a  little  religion  and  gratitude. 
Besides,  it  was  that  made  the  poetry  come 
into  my  ideas,  Bessie.  I  was  thinking  how 
very  good  and  grateful  we  ought  to  be,  when 
God  gives  us  such  a  very  beautiful  world  to 
look  at,  and  travel  about  in." 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  putting  her  head  on 
one  side  and  giving  her  sister  a  look  which 
expressed  as  much  admiration  and  affection 
as  a  look  could  do,  "  yes :  what  a  very  smart, 
nice  girl  you  are,  Maggie  !  " 

"  You  think  so,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  but  every- 
body don't." 
.  "  That's  'cause  they  don't  know  any  better," 
said  Bessie,  whose  praise  might  have  spoiled 
Maggie,  if  the  latter  had  been  at  all  vain  and 
conceited. 


Maggie's  Poem,  235 

"  The  second  verse  isn't  very  pious,"  said 
Maggie,  looking  at  it  doubtfully ;  "  but  I  guess 
I'll  leave  it  in." 

"And  jou  can  explain  it  to  Uncle  Horace 
when  you  write  to  him,"  said  Bessie.  "  But 
make  some  more,  Maggie :  your  poetry  is 
splendid." 

Thus  encouraged,  Maggie  went  on,  — 

"  I  look  upon  the  blue,  blue  sky, 

That  spreads  above  us  there  on  high  : 
Below,  the  water  sparkles  bright, 
And  all  around  the  land  is  light. 

"  The  sun  is  shining,  too,  above. 
And  whispers  to  us,  '  God  is  love  ! ' 
The  moon,  also,  will  shine  to-night. 
And  pretty  stars  will  twinkle  bright" 

"  Oh,  what  lovely  description  you  do  make !  " 
exclaimed  Bessie,  when  Maggie  read  these 
two  verses. 

"  This  world  is  aU  so  beautiful, 
We  should  be  very  grateful ; 
But  then,  you  know,  sometimes  we're  not. 
And  do  forget  our  happy  lot." 

"We'll  have  to  read  gra-te-ful  to  make  it 


236  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

come    right  with    beautiful,''    said    Maggie; 
**  but  it  sounds  good  enough." 

"  Oh !  it's  perfectly  lovely,"  said  Bessie. 

*  Our  father  and  our  mother  dear, 
Each  sitting  in  a  steamboat  chair; 
Aunt  Bessie  too,  the  darling  dear, 
And  Uncle  Ruthven  sitting  near. 

"  Oh  !  it  doth  make  my  lieart  rejoice 
To  hear  each  loved  and  pleasant  voice ; 
And  then  I  have  my  sisters  sweet, 
Who  with  kind  smiles  me  always  greet." 

"What  does  '  greet '  mean  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"It  means  something  like  welcome,"  an- 
swered Maggie.  "  I  can't  explain  exactly ; 
but  I  know  it  is  a  word  poetry-writers  use  a 
great  deal,  and  I  thought  I  had  better  put  it 
in." 

Maggie  wrote  on, — 

"  And  then  I've  lots  of  friends  at  home. 
From  whom  just  now  away  I  roam ; 
I  trust  they'll  all  be  safe  and  sound 
"When  I  again  at  home  am  found." 

"  Tliat  is  enough  for  to-day,"  said  Maggie 


Maggie's  Poem.  237 

"  but  I  am  going  to  make  a  long  poem  out  of 
it,  and  I'll  do  some  more  another  time.  I 
s'pose  Niagara  will  be  a  good  thing  to  put  in 
.it.     You  know  thej  say  it  is  splendid." 

"  What  is  '  roam '  ?  "  asked  Bessie,  who  must 
always  inquire  the  meaning  of  every  word  she 
did  not  understand. 

^'  To  travel  about.  Just  what  we're  doing," 
answered  Maggie. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  say  travel  ?  I  think 
it's  the  nicest  word." 

''  But  it  is  not  so  uncommon,"  said  Mag- 
gie;  "  and  you  know  when  people  write  poetry 
they  always  put  in  all  the  uncommon  words 
they  can  find." 

"  Do  they  ? "  said  Bessie,  as  if  she  did  not 
quite  approve  of  this  rule. 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,"  answered  Maggie.  "  You 
know  prose  is  just  common  talking;  but 
poetry  is  uncommon  talking,  and  you  have  to 
make  it  sound  as  fine  as  you  can,  and  put 
words  you  don't  use  every  day." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Bessie.      "  Well,  if  you  have 


238  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

done,  I  guess  we'd  better  give  papa  back  his 
book." 

Accordingly,  the  book  was  carried  to  i^apa, 
A^ho  had  not  had  any  idea  that  Maggie's  poeti- 
cal fancy  would  carry  her  so  far,  and  who  was 
rather  surprised  to  see  several  pages  scribbled 
over  with  verses  that  were  lined  and  inter- 
lined, scratched  out  and  written  over,  in  a 
manner  which  did  not  add  to  the  beauty  or 
neatness  of  the  book. 

However,  he  only  laughed,  and  taking  out 
his  penknife  carefully  cut  out  the  scribbled 
leaves  and  gave  them  to  the  little  poetess, 
who  rolled  them  up,  and  tying  them  round 
with  a  bit  of  twine,  stowed  them  away  in  her 
satchel,  till  such  time  as  she  should  be  ready 
to  copy  and  add  to  them. 

But  she  did  not  find  leisure  for  this  till 
they  had  been  at  Niagara  for  two  or  three 
days  ;  and  then,  when  she  looked  in  her  travel- 
ling-bag for  the  precious  poem,  lo !  it  was 
gone !  In  vain  did  she  and  Bessie  take  out 
all  the  other  contents  from  the  satchel,  shake 


Maggie's  Poem,  239 

it,  and  feel  in  each  corner  and  pocket:  no 
poem  came  to  light,  and  great  was  the  sorrow- 
ing over  its  loss. 

"  Then  I  s'pose  I'll  never  hear  of  it  again," 
said  Bessie,  regretfully,  when  mamma  said 
she  thought  Maggie  must  have  pulled  it  out 
with  some  of  the  other  things  her  bag  con- 
tained, and  so  dropped  it,  unseen. 

But  poor  Maggie  was  to  hear  of  her  poem 
again  ;  to  hear  a  little  too  much  of  it. 

The  two  parties  spent  a  week  or  more  at 
Niagara  Falls,  visiting  many  a  point  of  inter- 
est and  beauty,  —  sometimes  together,  some- 
times apart ;  now  standing  below  the  level  of 
the  Rapids,  and  looking  backward  at  their 
white  foaming  crests  drawn  sharply  against 
the  blue  sky,  as  the  mad  waters  went  whirling 
and  rushing  over  the  slope ;  now,  in  the  early 
morning,  looking  up  to  the  top  of  the  Great 
Fall,  which  shone  and  flashed  like  jewels  in 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  the  gray  mist  curling 
below,  and  a  glorious  rainbow  stretching  from 
shore  to  shore ;  now  taking  the  little  steamer 


240  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

which  plies  to  the  foot  of  the  cataract,  into 
the  very  midst  of  the  thick,  blinding  spray. 
Mamma  did  not  think  it  best  for  Bessie  to  go 
on  this  expedition ;  but  strong,  hardy,  little 
Maggie  was  allowed  to  go,  well  wrapped  in 
water-proof,  and  held  fast  in  papa's  or  Uncle 
Ruthven's  arms.  On  the  whole,  however, 
Maggie  did  not  enjoy  this  as  much  as  she  did 
the  other  excursions.  In  the  first  place,  Bes- 
sie was  not  with  her,  and  then  she  wanted  to 
laugh  at  the  droll,  miserable-looking  figures 
about  her,  but  would  not  do  so,  lest  she 
should  "  hurt  their  feelings,  when  they  looked 
so  very  unhappy,  and  as  if  they  wished  they 
had  not  come." 

Then  again  they  would  pass  over  to  some 
of  the  lovely  little  islands,  which  here  and 
there  break  the  rapids  above  the  American 
Fall.  Two  of  them,  Ship  and  Brig  Islands, 
had  a  special  interest  for  the  children,  from 
their  resemblance  to  ships  under  full  sail. 
Even  Bessie,  who  could  never  be  persuaded  to 
imagine  any  thing  which  she  did  not  distinct- 


Maggie^ s  Poefn,  241 

iy  see,  noticed  this,  and  said  she  felt  almost 
Sony  for  them,  for  it  seemed  as  if  thej  were 
*'  real  live  ships  trying  to  sail  out  of  the 
waters  that  were  hurrying  them  away  so 
fast." 

^h.  Bradford  and  Mr.  Stanton  had  gone 
over  to  Goat  Island  one  afternoon,  taking  the 
little  girls  with  them.  Here  they  were  lying 
and  sitting  under  the  overarching  trees,  look- 
ing at  the  Hermit's  Cascade,  and  listening 
to  the  deep,  never-ceasing  voice  of  the  great 
cataract,  when  they  were  joined  by  the  young- 
er portion  of  the  Maynard  party, —  Kate  and 
her  brother,  and  Mr.  and  Miss  Temple. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  had  by  this  time  taken 
Mr.  Charlie  Maynard  into  special  favor,  look- 
ing upon  him  with  eyes  nearly  as  friendly  as 
those  with  which  they  regarded  his  sister; 
and  they  were  glad  to  see  both  him  and  Kate. 
Miss  Temple,  too,  a  quiet,  lady-like  girl,  they 
liked  very  well,  and  did  not  object  to  her ;  but 
they  could  very  well  have  dispensed  with  her 
brother's   society.     However,  he   did  not  on 

16 


242  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

this  occasion  seem  at  first  disposed  to  prove 
teasing  or  troublesome,  but  stretched  himself 
upon  the  grass,  with  his  head  supported  on 
his  arm  and  his  hat  half  over  his  ejes. 

But,  by  and  by,  Mr.  Bradford  and  Mr.  Stan- 
ton, seeing  an  old  friend  at  a  little  distance, 
went  to  speak  to  him ;  the  former  telling  his 
little  girls  to  remain  where  they  were  till  he 
returned.  They  were  scarcely  out  of  hearing, 
when  George  Temple,  turning  lazily  over  so 
as  to  face  Maggie,  though  hq  still  kept  his 
eyes  shaded  by  his  hat,  said, — 

"  This  is  delightful !  One  could  dream  half 
one's  life  away  in  this  enchanting  place  and 
in  such  pleasant  company.  Have  we  not  a 
poet  or  poetess  among  us  to  put  it  all  into 
verse  ?  What !  no  answer  to  the  call  ?  Then 
I  shall  have  to  try  my  hand  at  it." 

"  You  making  verses  !  "  said  his  sister, 
laughing,  and  playfully  pulling  the  brown 
locks  which  escaped  from  beneath  his  hat. 
"  You  making  verses !  a  lame  style  of  poetry 
that  would  be,  to  be  sure." 


Maggie's  Poem.  243 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  George.  "  Certainly 
I  never  appeared  to  have  much  talent  that 
way  ;  but  no  one  can  tell  what  he  may  be 
able  to  do  when  a  fitting  time  arrives.  I 
feel  on  the  present  occasion  like  the  gifted 
authoress  who  says  so  touchingiy, — 

*  I  have  so  very  many  mercies 

I  have  to  write  them  down  in  verses/  " 

Maggie  started,  and  looked  up  from  the  little 
bunch  of  wild  flowers  she  was  arranging  to 
carry  home  to  her  mother. 

Mr.  Maynard  and  the  young  ladies  laughed ; 
and  Charlie  said, — 

"  What  a  gem  !     Who  is  your  authoress  ?  " 

"  She  is  Anon.,  I  believe,"  said  George, 
sleepily.     "  She  closes  the  couplet  with, — 

*  Because  my  heart  in  praise  goes  up 
For  such  a  full  and  heaped-up  cup.* 

Now  I  am  in  just  such  a  frame  of  mind,  and 
quite  agree  with  her  when  she  goes  on  to  say,  — 

*  This  world  is  all  so  beautiful. 
We  should  be  very  gra-te-ful ; 

But  then,  you  know,  sometimes  we're  not. 
And  do  forget  our  happy  lot.'  " 


244  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

"  George,"  said  Miss  Temple,  •'  bow  can  you 
be  so  foolisb  ?  "  but  sbe  laugbed  again,  and 
tbe  others,  too,  went  on  laughing  and  joking 
liim  about  bis  "  nonsense  ;  "  wbile  poor  Maggie 
sat,  —  with  downcast-ejes,  changing  color,  and 
beating  heart,  —  listening  intently  to  every 
word  her  tormentor  uttered,  and  wondering 
how  much  more  pain  he  would  put  her  through. 
As  for  Bessie,  she  had  at  first  heard  in  won- 
dering surprise  those  strangely  familiar  lines  ; 
but  surprise  soon  changed  to  sympathy  for  her 
Maggie,  and  indignation  against  Mr.  Temple. 

Suddenly  Kate  turned  her  eyes  towards  the 
two  little  faces,  and  the  expression  of  both  left 
no  room  for  doubt  as  to  who  was  the  author  of 
the  unfortunate  verses.  Maggie  was  in  an 
agony  of  embarrassment :  too  well  did  Kate 
know  the  signs,  and  remember  with  shame 
how,  not  long  since,  she  herself  had  found  as 
much  amusement  in  them  as  George  Temple 
was  probably  now  doing,  since  he  was  taking 
so  much  pains  to  excite  them.  But  Kate  had 
learned  better,  and  had  grown  more  thought- 


Maggie's  Poem.  245 

ful  and  considerate,  more  careful  not  to  give 
pain  to  another  for  the  sake  of  a  little  passing 
enjoyment  to  herself.  How  cruel  Mr.  Tem- 
ple's teasing  seemed  to  her  now,  and  how  she 
felt  for  Maggie  ! 

For  Bessie,  too,  who  she  saw  was  trying  to 
keep  down  her  rising  temper,  she  was  very 
sorry.  She  must  come  to  the  rescue  in  some 
way. 

"  I  might  have  known  from  the  first,"  she 
said  to  herself,  "  that  those  were  Maggie's 
verses.  They  sound  just  like  her,  —  just  like 
her  happy,  grateful,  little  heart,  always  so 
ready  and  eager  to  give  praise  and  gratitude 
where  they  are  due.  They  are  not  bad  for 
such  a  child,  either  ;  but  I  must  help  her  out 
of  this.     Poor  little  Maggie  !  " 

''  There's  another  sentiment  of  the  talented 
writer,  to  which  I  shall  also  say  amen,"  began 
Mr.  Temple  again, — 

"  *  And  then  I've  lots  of  friends  at  home 
From  whom  just  now  away  I  roam ; 
I  hope  they'll  all  be  safe  and  sound 
"When  1  again  at  home  am  found.'  " 


246  Bessie  071  her  Travels, 

"1  thought  you  meant  to  try  your  own 
powers  of  rhyming,"  said  Kate.  "  I  am  glad 
you  have  not,  for  I  know  you  could  not  do 
nearly  as  well  as  the  writer  you  quote ;  and  I 
am  sure  you  have  not  half  as  feeling  a  heart. 
But  we  have  had  enough." 

This  was  an  unlucky  speech  of  Kate's ;  for 
it  gave  Mr.  Temple  an  opportunity  of  doing 
still  worse. 

"  A  feeling  heart !  "  he  repeated :  "  well,  I 
don't  know  about  that ;  her  feelings  seem  to 
have  been  mixed,  for  she  says,  — 

*  Alas  !  'tis  my  unhappy  fate 
To  see  on  board  a  man  I  hate  : 
I  know  I  should  not  be  so  mad ; 
But  he  behaves  so  very  bad.* 

Now,  I  am  in  a  much  more  amiable  frame  of 
mind  ;  for  I  do  not  see  in  this  present  company 
a  single  person  whom  it  is  '  my  unhappy  fate  ' 
to  hate.     How  is  it  with  you,  Maggie  ?  " 

But  Maggie  was  overwhelmed,  and  could 
flot  possibly  have  answered  if  she  had  wished 
to  do  so  ever  so  much. 


Maggie's  Poem.  247 

"  Maggie,"  said  Kate,  seeing  no  way  to 
spare  the  child  further  confusion  but  by  taking 
her  away,  "  you  have  not  enough  green  with 
those  flowers.  Come  over  there,  I  see  some 
pretty  leaves,  and  we  will  gather  them.'* 

Maggie  sprang  to  her  feet,  letting  the  flow- 
ers fall  to  the  ground,  and  seized  eagerly  upon 
the  kind  hand  held  out  for  her  relief.  The 
tears,  which  she  had  been  struggling  to  hold 
back,  flowed  freely  the  moment  she  was  be- 
yond the  sound  of  her  tormentor's  voice ;  but 
she  felt  better  for  them  and  for  Kate's  sym- 
pathy. 

''  Never  mind,  dear,"  said  Kate,  sooth- 
ingly. "■  I  know  the  poetry  is  yours,  Maggie, 
and  it  is  very  nice  indeed  ;  but  I  would  not 
say  so  before  Charlie  and  Mary.  I  thought 
you  would  not  like  it.  George  Temple  could 
not  have  written  it  himself,  and  he  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  tease  you  so." 

''It's  too^  too  mean,"  sobbed  Maggie  ;  "  and 
that  man  is  too  horrid.  I  didn't  really  mean 
1  hated  him  ;  but  now  I  most  feel  as  if  I  did." 


248  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Meanwhile  Bessie,  who  had  lingered  a  mo- 
ment to  pick  up  Maggie's  flowers,  was  receiv- 
ing in  dignified  silence  Mr.  Temple's  questions 
as  he  asked  "  what  ailed  her  sister  ?  " 

"  What  is  the  matter,  George  ?  "  said  Miss 
Temple,  seeing  something  was  wrong.  "  Are 
you  teasing  Maggie  ?  Are  those  verses  hers  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  they  were  Anon.,"  replied  her 
brother. 

This  was  a  little  too  much.  It  was  quite 
bad  enough  for  Mr.  Temple  to  torment  Maggie 
so  ;  but  that  he  should  give  the  credit  of  those 
beautiful  verses  to  another,  was  more  than 
could  be  borne,  and  Bessie  turned  upon  him, 
saying,  with  the  utmost  severity,  but  without 
passion, — 

"  They're  not.  Miss  Anon,  didn't  write 
them  My  Maggie  did ;  and  you  know  it,  and 
you  took  them  out  of  her  bag." 

Mr.  Temple  laughed  with  the  others  at  the 
first  part  of  the  speech,  but  looked  grave  again 
at  its  ending. 

"  Hallo  !  "  he  said,  rousing  himself  from  tho 


Maggies  Poem,  249 

lazy  attitude  he  had  kept  until  now,  "  do  you 
know  what  you  are  saying,  little  lady  ?  That 
would  be  stealing." 

Bessie  stood  looking  at  him  for  a  moment 
in  silence. 

"  I  picked  them  up  off  the  deck  of  the  steam- 
boat," said  the  young  gentleman,  a  shade  of 
vexation  crossing  his  face  as  he  noted  the 
expression  of  the  child's. 

With  grave  reproach  in  her  great,  serious 
eyes,  she  made  answer, — 

"  I  don't  see  why  it's  not  just  the  same." 

"  The  same  as  what,  as  stealing  ?  " 

"  You  knew  they  were  not  yours,  sir,"  an- 
swered the  child.  "  I  don't  suppose  it  wac^ 
just  stealing,  but  I  think  it  was  "  — 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Temple,  seeing  she  hesi- 
tated. 

"  I  had  better  go  away,"  said  Bessie  :  "  I 
feel  pretty  saucy  and  I  might  say  something 
you  deserved  ;  "  with  which  she  turned  away, 
and  ran  after  Kate  and  Maggie. 

Mr.  Temple  looked,  as  he  felt,  uncomfortable, 


250  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

The  joke  had  proved  more  serious  than  he  had 
intended ;  and  the  remarks  made  bj  his  two 
companions,  and  their  amusement  at  Bessie's 
words,  did  not  tend  to  make  him  better  pleased 
with  the  consequences  of  his  own  conduct. 

Kate  added  her  reproaches  when  she  re- 
turned, after  leaving  Maggie  and  Bessie  in 
their  father's  care,  saying,  — 

"  I  had  rather,  for  your  own  sake,  that  you 
had  done  this  thing  to  any  other  children  than 
those  two,  George.  They  are  both  so  truly 
just,  and  have  such  a  high  sense  of  honor, 
which  you  have  rudely  shocked." 

"  A  child's  sense  of  honor,"  repeated  George, 
rather  scornfully.  "  I  am  sorry  I  teased  them, 
and  had  no  idea  Maggie  would  take  it  so 
hardly  ;  but  I  am  not  troubled  in  regard  to  my 
self.  A  child's  opinion  does  not  signify  much." 

"  It  does  with  me,"  said  Kate,  "  and  I  can 
tell  you  a  story  to  the  point,  and  which  may 
show  you  what  a  child's  sense  of  honor  is 
worth.  I  think  they  sometimes  see  the  right 
and  wrong  more  clearly  than  we  do." 


Maggie's  Poem,  251 

"  You  seem  to  have  great  faith  in  these 
little  friends  of  yours,"  said  Mr.  Temple. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Kate,  "  I  have  reason.  They 
have  been  tried  and  not  found  wanting,  as 
you  shall  hear ;  "  and  Kate  told  the  story  of 
the  prize  composition,  —  the  hopes  and  fears 
regarding  it,  its  loss  and  recovery,  and  the 
noble  way  in  which  our  little  girls  had  acted. 

"  Capital ! "  said  Charlie,  as  she  ended. 
"  They  judge  others  only  by  the  rules  by  which 
their  own  conduct  is  guided ;  and  there  is  a 
wise  saying  in  an  old  book  we  all  know  of, 
which  we  would  do  well  to  remember  :  namely, 
'  Take  heed  that  ye  offend  not  one  of  these 
little  ones.'  I  take  that  to  mean,  not  only 
that  we  are  to  set  a  good  example  to  them, 
and  that  we  must  so  act  and  speak  as  not  to 
confuse  and  disturb  their  ideas  of  right  and 
wrong  ;  but  also,  that  whoever  purposely  hurts 
or  grieves  one  of  them,  commits  a  sin  in  the 
eyes  of  Him  who  gave  them  His  special  care 
and  blessing.  Which  of  us  could  have  calmly 
borne  ridicule   thrown  upon  some  cherished 


252  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

work  of  our  own,  such  as  you  cast,  George, 
on  the  simple  verses  of  that  shy,  sensitive, 
little  Maggie  ?  Poor  little  poetess  !  And  I 
honor  Bessie,  baby  though  she  is,  for  the  way 
in  which  she  struggled  with  her  temper,  and 
removed  herself  from  the  temptation  to  give 
way  to  it,  and  '  say  something  you  deserved.' 
Could  there  have  been  a  more  severe  reproof 
than  that  ?  "  and  Mr.  Maynard  laughed  again 
at  Bessie's  speech  and  manner,  though  he  felt 
that  this  had  become  no  laughing  matter. 

"  They  have  both  forgiven  him  now,"  said 
Kate,  dryly  ;  "  and  Bessie  made  the  excuse  for 
him  which  she  usually  makes  for  others  who 
do  what  she  considers  wrong,  that  'maybe 
Mr.  Temple  had  never  been  taught  better,  and 
so  didn't  know  what  was  very  true  and  honest, 
or  he  wouldn't  have  kept  Maggie's  verses, 
when  he  knew  they  were  hers,  for  such  a  very 
unkind  purpose  as  to  tease  her.'  '  And  may- 
be he  didn't  know  how  very  bad  I  felt,  and 
never  thought  much  about  doing  unto  others,' 
added  Maggie.     I  cannot  believe  you  meant 


Maggie* s  Poem,  253 

to  be  as  cruel  as  you  were,  George  ;  for  you 
did  not  know  how  much  Maggie  dreads  notice 
drawn  upon  herself.  You  see,"  she  added, 
playfully,  "  I  have  myself  so  lately  learned  the 
lesson  how  much  suffering  such  thoughtless- 
ness may  cause  another,  that  I  feel  entitled  to 
preach  on  the  subject  to  others." 

Mr.  Temple  took  the  preaching  in  good  part* 
He  had  a  lazy  kind  of  good-nature  which  would 
not  allow  him  to  take  offence  readily ;  and, 
besides,  he  was  really  sorry  and  vexed  with 
himself  for  what  he  had  done.  Perhaps  he 
would  have  regretted  it  still  more,  had  he 
seen  part  of  a  letter  written  that  afternoon  by 
Maggie  to  Colonel  Rush :  — 

"  Dear  Uncle  Horace,  —  I  think  there  are 
a  kind  of  people  in  the  world  who  seem  to  be 
created  only  for  a  very  bad  business,  namely, 
to  tease  poor  children  and  make  their  shyness 
come  back  to  them  when  they  have  been  try- 
ing very  hard  to  cure  themselves  of  it.  Of 
this  nature  is  a  man  whose  name  I  will  not 


254  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

mention,  for  some  day  you  might  know  him 
and  say  ^  there  is  tlie  trecherous  man  who 
was  so  cruel  to  Maggie  and  I  will  not  be  ac- 
quainted with  him  '  which  would  be  a  punish- 
ment I  would  not  wish  even  him  to  bear 
because  I  am  trying  to  forgive  him  but  it  is 
very  hard.  He  picked  up  a  poem  I  wrote  on 
the  boat  to  send  to  you,  and  he  kept  it  and 
said  it  before  me  just  to  plage  me  and  there 
was  a  verse  in  it  about  him  which  was  not  at 
all  a  compliment  and  oh  !  dear  Uncle  Horace 
he  said  that  too,  and  it  was  dreadful  I  was  so 
frightened.  I  am  quite  sure  he  knew  it  was 
mine  and  Bessie  is  too  and  I  don't  think  it 
was  very  honest  not  to  give  it  right  back  do 
you  ?  but  to  read  it  which  was  not  like  what 
a  gentleman  should  do.  He  made  believe  he 
thought  it  was  nice  but  he  did  not  and  was 
only  making  fun  of  it  which  was  a  hard  dis- 
tress to  bear  and  I  think  I  shall  never  recover 
it  and  feel  as  pleasant  with  that  man  as  I 
would  wish  to  feel  with  all  my  fellow  cretures. 
Miss  Kate  was  very  nice  and  took  me  away 


Maggie  s  Poem,  255 

and  she  is  much  improved  and  never  teases 
any  more  and  now  I  love  her  dearly  ;  but  she 
never  teased  me  so  badly  as  that  man  who  I 
will  not  name  and  I  pity  Miss  Temple  for  hav- 
ing such  a  brother  for  she  is  a  very  nice  young 
lady  and  deserves  better.  When  Harry  and 
Fred  are  young  men  which  I  wish  they  did 
not  have  to  be  I  hope  they  will  remember  this 
and  take  pattern  by  Mr.  Maynard  and  not  by 

M that  other  man  I  mean.     But  no  more 

on  this  melancorly  subject  so  sad  to  think  on 
but  I  will  tell  you  about  Niagara  Falls. 

"  N.  B.  Mr.  Temple  is  a  very  good  looking 
young  man  in  his  appearance  but  I  find  all  is 
not  gold  that  glitters." 


XI. 


GOOD    SEED. 
Y  OWN   DEAR  SOLGER, I  do  want   tO 

see  you  so  much  I  don't  kno  wat 
to  do  and  Ant  May  too  and  May 
Bessie.  I  did  not  see  you  ever  so  long  and 
it  is  such  a  grate  wile  I  miss  you  so.  But 
Mamma  says  some  day  we  will  go  to  your 
house  in  that  place  where  you  live  and  I  will 
be  so  glad  and  my  Maggie  too.  They  are 
Indians  in  Nigra  Falls  and  they  have  pretty 
things  and  we  bort  some  for  all  our  peple  and 
a  baskit  for  Ant  May  and  a  rattel  for  May 
Bessie  and  something  for  you  that  is  a  secret. 
Plese  dont  tell  them  so  they  will  be  surprised 
and  Nigra  Falls  is  so  fast  you  cant  think.  I 
never  saw  such  fast  water  and  it  makes  such 
a  noise  but  not  so  nice  as  the  sea  and  I  like  it 


Good  Seed,  257 

best  when  we  go  on  the  ilans  or  up  the  river 
where  it  is  not  so  much  noise  or  such  hie 
water  to  fall  over.  Some  ilans  are  named  the 
three  sisters  and  we  call  one  Maggie  and  one 
Bessie  and  one  Annie  don't  you  think  that  is 
nice.  I  want  to  see  Belle  so  much.  Belie 
loves  me  and  I  love  Belle  and  Maggie  does  too 
and  I  love  her  more  that  her  mama  went 
away  to  Jesus  and  she  wants  her  but  I  know 
she  loves  her  yet  and  is  glad  when  she  is  good. 
And  Belle  is  sweet.  Don't  you  love  Belle? 
I  send  you  forty  nine  kisses  and  I  love  you 
dear  Uncle  Horace  from  your  pet 

"  Bessie.'* 

It  would  be  hard  to  tell  who  took  the  most 
pleasure  in  these  letters  from  our  little  travel- 
lers,— those  who  wrote  them,  or  those  who  re- 
ceived them.  One  thing  is  certain,  —  that  they 
were  all  carefully  kept  and  laid  away,  and 
some  time,  when  they  are  older,  Maggie  and 
Bessie  may  find  some  amusement  in  looking 
over  these  records  of  their  childish  days.   Many 


258  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

a  pleasant  scene  and  circumstance  will  they 
bring  back  to  them,  and  some  not  so  bright 
perhaps  ;  for  the  little  ones  have  their  trials,  as 
we  know,  and  do  not,  I  fear,  forget  as  readily 
as  we  grown  people  would  believe.  It  is 
strange  we  do  not  see  that  too  ;  looking  back, 
as  we  often  do,  with  a  sort  of  tender  pity  for  our 
own  former  grieved  and  mortified  little  selves, 
and  remembering  with  such  distinctness  the 
sharp  or  quick  word  of  reproof,  the  thought- 
less teasing,  or  the  loud,  sudden  laugh  at  some 
innocent  speech  or  action. 

Little  did  Bessie  think  when  she  wrote  that 
last  letter,  how  soon  her  wishes  to  see  her 
dear  friends  were  to  be'  gratified. 

It  had  been  intended  to  take  the  steamer 
down  Lake  Ontario  and  the  St.  Lawrence  to 
Montreal :  but  on  the  day  before  that  on  which 
our  friends  were  to  leave  Niagara,  there  was  a 
severe  storm  which  tossed  and  roughened  the 
waters  of  the  great  lake  :  and  fearing  that 
Maggie  might  have  an  attack  of  the  old  enemy 
she  so  dreaded,  and  knowing  that  fresh  water 


Good  Seed*  259 

sea-sickness  is  even  worse  than  that  which 
comes  from  the  salt  water,  the  elders  of  the 
party  decided  not  to  take  the  boat  down  the 
lake. 

They  therefore  went  by  the  cars  to  Kings- 
ton, in  Canada,  and,  after  passing  a  day  there, 
took  the  boat  down  the  river  St.  Lawrence ; 
for  here  Maggie  had  nothing  to  fear  from  her 
foe.  There  was  no  part  of  their  long  journey 
which  the  children  enjoyed  more  than  their 
passage  down  this  beautiful  river,  so  different 
from  any  thing  they  had  yet  seen.  The  Lake 
of  the  Thousand  Isles,  as  the  entrance  to  the 
St.  Lawrence  is  called,  full  of  little  islets  up 
to  the  number  that  is  named,  a  thousand : 
some  larger,  and  covered  with  graceful,  feath- 
ery trees ;  some  so  small  as  scarce  to  afford 
room  for  some  solitary  tree  or  bush ;  clustering 
together  so  as  scarce  to  leave  room  for  the 
steamer  to  pass,  then  again  separating,  with  a 
broad,  clear  sheet  of  water  between  them. 

Here  something  occurred  which  greatly  in- 
terested not  only  the  children,  but  also  the 


26o  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

grown  people  on  board.  As  the  steamer  waa 
slowly  making  her  way  between  two  small 
islands,  the  passengers  saw  a  very  exciting 
chase  before  them.  A  fine  stag  was  swim- 
ming across  the  river,  pursued  by  dogs  and 
two  boats  with  men  in  them.  The  poor  beast 
was  trying  with  all  his  strength  to  escape 
from  his  cruel  enemies,  and  the  sympathies 
of  all  the  passengers  were  with  him.  The  men 
in  the  boats  had  no  guns,  but  a  net,  which  they 
were  trying  to  throw  over  his  head ;  but  each 
time  they  neared  him,  he  shot  forward  beyond 
their  reach.  Maggie  and  Bessie  were  in  a 
state  of  the  wildest  excitement,  as  they  watched 
the  innocent  and  beautiful  creature  panting 
with  terror  and  fatigue  ;  and  their  elders  were 
hardly  less  so.  Bessie  held  fast  her  father's 
liand,  gazing  with  eager  eyes  and  parted  lips, 
lier  color  coming  and  going,  her  little  frame 
trembling  with  distress  and  indignation  :  and 
Maggie  seized  upon  Uncle  Ruthvcn  and  danced 
up  and  down  in  frantic  suspense  and  alarm 
at  the  danger  of  the  poor  beast.     His  courage 


Good  Seed,  261 

seemed  giving  out,  and  his  pursuers  cheered  in 
triumph  ;  when,  summoning  up  all  his  strength, 
he  suddenly  turned,  and,  passing  almost  under 
the  bow  of  the  steamer,  made  for  the  opposite 
and  nearer  shore,  thus  gaining  upon  his  ene- 
mies as  they  took  time  to  turn  their  boats  ;  and 
cleaving  the  water,  almost  like  lightning,  he 
reached  the  thickly  wooded  bank,  bounded  up, 
and  was  lost  to  sight  among  the  forest  trees, 
and  beyond  the  reach  of  his  would-be  destroy- 
ers. A  cheer  burst  from  those  on  board,  as 
the  noble  creature  disappeared  in  safety,  —  a 
cheer  in  which  Maggie  joined  with  all  her 
heart,  "  for  I  couldn't  help  it,  and  most  forgot 
it  was  rather  tomboyish,"  she  afterwards  said. 
But  no  one  found  fault  with  her :  indeed  no 
one  could.  As  for  Bessie,  she  fairly  cried, 
but  it  was  only  with  pleasure  and  the  feeling 
of  relief. 

Later  in  the  day,  they  were  greatly  inter 
ested  in  seeing  the  shooting  of  the  Rapids, 
as  the  passage  of  the  steamer  over  the  foam- 
ing waters  is  called.     It  was  a  curious  sight 


262  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

The  water  foamed  and  bubbled  around  the 
steamer,  seeming  as  though  it  were  eager  to 
draw  it  down  ;  but  the  vessel  glided  on ,  rose 
a  little  to  the  billows,  plunged,  rose  again,  and 
was  once  more  in  smooth  waters.  There  were 
several  of  these  rapids  to  be  passed  ;  and,  al- 
though our  little  girls  had  been  rather  friglit- 
ened  at  the  first,  they  soon  became  accustomed 
to  it,  and  enjoyed  the  swift  descent.  The 
crew  of  the  steamer  were  all  Canadians  ;  and, 
as  they  came  to  each  rapid,  they  struck  up 
some  cheery  boat-song,  which  rose  sweet  and 
clear  above  the  roar  of  the  waves,  and  put 
heart  and  courage  into  the  more  timid  ones 
among  the  passengers. 

They  soon  reached  Montreal,  where  they 
spent  a  week  ;  and  here  again  the  opportunity 
to  do  a  kind  act,  and  leave  a  blessing  behind 
them,  came  in  the  way  of  our  little  sisters. 

They  were  one  day  passing  through  the  long 
upper  hall  of  the  hotel  at  which  they  stayed, 
when  they  met  the  chamber-maid  who  waited 
on  their  rooms,  crying  bitterly.     The  girl,  who 


Good  Seed,  263 

was  quite  young,  had  her  apron  thrown  over 
her  head,  and  seemed  in  great  distress. 

'•  What  is  the  matter,  Matilda  ? "  asked 
nurse,  who  was  witli  the  cliildren. 

"  I've  lost  my  place,"  sobbed  Matilda  ;  "  and 
I've  my  mother  and  my  two  little  brothers  to 
take  care  of.     Oh  !  whatever  will  I  do  ?  " 

"Why  are  you  turned  away  ?"  asked  nurse, 
who  thought  the  girl  attended  to  her  duties 
very  well,  and  was  civil  and  obliging. 

Then  Matilda  took  down  her  apron,  showing 
her  face  all  streaked  with  tears,  and  told  her 
story. 

She  had,  it  appeared,  been  unfortunate, — 
perhaps  rather  careless,  —  and  had  broken  one 
or  two  articles,  the  loss  of  which  had  greatly 
vexed  the  house-keeper,  who  had  told  her  she 
should  leave  her  place  the  next  time  she  broke 
any  thing.  This  had  made  her  more  careful ; 
but  that  morning  an  accident  had  occurred 
which  might  have  happened  to  any  one. 
Turning  the  corner  of  a  corridor,  with  a  pitch- 
er full  of  water  in  her  hand,  some  one  had 


264  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

run  against  her,  the  pitcher  was  knocked  from 
her  hold,  and  broken  into  a  hundred  pieces. 
The  house-keeper  would  hear  of  no  excuse, 
and  bade  her  leave  the  house  at  once,  or  pay 
for  the  pitcher. 

"  And  I  haven't  a  penny,"  said  the  girl ; 
''  for  I  sent  all  my  wages  to  my  mother  yester- 
day to  pay  her  rent,  and  there's  nothing  for 
it  but  I  must  go.  And  what  is  to  become  of 
us  all,  if  I  don't  get  another  place  right 
away  ?  " 

Nurse  tried  to  comfort  her,  by  saying  she 
would  soon  find  another  situation  ;  but  Matilda 
replied  that  was  not  so  easy,  and  she  feared 
they  would  all  suffer  before  she  found  it ;  and 
went  away,  still  crying  bitterly.  Maggie  and 
Bessie  were  very  sorry  for  her. 

"  I  wonder  if  we  haven't  money  enough  to 
pay  for  the  pitcher,  Bessie,"  said  Maggie. 
*'  If  we  had,  then  maybe  the  house-keeper 
would  let  her  stay  ;  and  if  she  won't  we  could 
give  Matilda  the  money  to  keep  her  mother 
and  brothers  from  starving." 


Good  Seed.  265 

"  Yes,  that's  a  good  thought  of  you,  Mag- 
gie," said  Bessie ;  "  and  tnere's  the  house- 
keeper now.  Let's  run  and  ask  her  quick  ; 
may  we,  nursey  ?  " 

Nurse  gave  permission,  though  she  did  not 
think  the  children  would  be  successful  in  their 
errand  of  kindness ;  and  said  low,  either  to 
herself  or  baby,  whom  she  carried  in  her 
arms,  — 

"  Eh !  the  little  dears  will  do  naught  with 
her.  She's  a  cross-grained  creature,  that 
house-keeper,  and  as  short  in  her  way  as  a 
snapping-turtle." 

Maggie's  courage  began  to  fail  her  when 
she  and  Bessie  ran  up  to  the  house-keeper,  and 
heard  the  severe  tone  in  which  she  was  speak- 
ing to  another  servant.  It  was  true  that  her 
manner  and  speech  were  apt  to  be  rather 
harsh  and  short  in  dealing  with  those  about 
her,  especially  to  the  girls  who  were  under 
her  orders  ;  but  it  must  be  said  in  her  excuse 
that  she  led  rather  a  trying  life,  and  had  a 
good  deal  to  vex  and  trouble  her. 


266  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Maggie  and  Bessie  stood  waiting  behind  the 
house-keeper's  stoat  figure,  till  she  had,  as 
Maggie  afterwards  said,  "  finished  up  her 
scoldings,"  when  Bessie  said  rather  timid- 
ly:- 

"  Mrs.  Housekeeper  ?  " 

"  Well,  what's  wanted  now  ? "  asked  the 
woman,  turning  sharply  round  ;  but,  when  she 
saw  who  was  speaking  to  her,  her  face  softened 
and  her  manner  changed. 

Now  the  worst  of  all  this  poor  woman's 
troubles  was  the  long  tedious  sickness  of  her 
only  child,  a  little  girl  about  Bessie's  age,  but 
not  bright  and  happy,  and  able  to  run  about 
and  play  like  our  little  ''  princess."  This 
poor  child  had  been  ailing  for  more  than  six 
months,  sometimes  suffering  a  great  deal,  and 
always  very  weak ;  and  her  mother  had  not 
much  time  to  give  to  her,  since  she  was 
oljliged  to  attend  to  her  duties  about  the  hotel 
of  which  she  had  charge. 

When  the  child  was  well  enough,  she  was 
put  into  a   perambulator  and  taken  out  for 


Good  Seed.  267 

fresh  air ;  and  she  had  just  returned  from  one 
of  these  rides  on  the  day  before  this,  as  Mag- 
gie and  Bessie  came  in  from  a  drive  with  the 
elders  of  their  party.  They  had  been  to  visit 
an  Indian  encampment  just  outside  the  city, 
and  returned  laden  with  all  manner  of  pretty 
trifles  purchased  for  the  dear  ones  at  home, 
and  some  for  themselves. 

They  had  each  of  them  also  a  handful  of 
flowers  given  to  them  by  some  friend  ;  and,  as 
they  passed  the  sick  child  lying  in  her  wagon, 
and  turned  towards  her  with  a  look  of  sympa- 
thy, Bessie  saw  her  eyes  fixed  longingly  on 
the  sweet  blossoms  she  held. 

She  stopped  and  turning  to  Maggie  said,  — 

"  I  think  I'll  give  my  flowers  to  that  sick 
child,  she  looks  as  if  she'd  like  them,"  and 
then  going  to  the  child  she  put  the  flowers  in 
her  hand,  and  said,  "  Here  are  some  flowers 
for  you,  and  I  am  sorry  you  are  sick." 

"And  here's  a  basket  for  you,"  said  Maggie, 
coming  forward  with  her  offering  too ;  and  she 
gave  a  pretty  little  basket,  tlie  work  of  the 


268  Bessie  07i  her  T^-avels. 

Indians,  which  she  had  bought  for  her  own 
use  :  "  you  can  put  Bessie's  flowers  in  it,  and 
it  will  look  lovely.  See,  let  me  fix  them  for 
you,*'  and  in  two  minutes  her  skilful  little 
fingers  had  arranged  the  flowers  most  taste- 
fully, greatly  to  the  child's  delight. 

"And  am  I  to  keep  the  basket  ?  "  asked  the 
sick  child. 

"Oh,  yes !  for  ever  and  ever  if  you  like," 
said  Maggie;  "and  when  the  flowers  are  faded 
you  can  take  them  out  and  put  some  more 
in." 

"  I  don't  often  have  flowers,"  said  the  child  ; 
"  but  I  love  them  so :  only  I  don't  like  to 
take  all  yours,"  she  added,  looking  at  Bessie. 

"  Oh !  she  is  going  to  have  half  mine,"  said 
Maggie  ;  "  you  needn't  be  troubled  about  that. 
Good-by  now,"  and  she  and  Bessie  ran  after 
their  parents,  leaving  the  sick  child  brightened 
and  happy. 

Her  mother  had  been  standing  near  enough 
to  hear  and  see  all  that  had  passed ;  and  so 
you  will  not  wonder  that  now,  when  she  turned 


Bessie's  Travels. 


p.  268. 


Good  Seed.  26g 

and  saw  Maggie  and  Bessie,  her  harsh  look 
and  tone  became  gentle  and  pleasant. 

"Oh!  it's  jou,  you  little  dears,"  she  said. 
"  Now,  is  there  ever  a  thing  I  can  do  for 
you?" 

»  .   .  ^»^<^--***-^-'~-    -  ...  ,,.  .•CSS. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie.  "  We  are  so  sorry  for 
Matilda,  and  we  wanted  to  know  if  you  would 
let  us  pay  for  the  pitcher  she  broke  if  we 
have  money  enough,  and  try  her  just  once 
more  ? " 

"  I  like  to  please  you,"  said  the  woman ; 
"  but  Matilda  is  so  careless  I  cannot  put  up 
with  her." 

"  But  it  really  wasn't  her  fault  this  time," 
pleaded  Bessie  ;  "  she  says  a  man  ran  against 
her,  and  knocked  it  out  of  her  hand  when  she 
was  carrying  it  so  carefully." 

"And  we'll  pay  for  it  if  we  have  enough," 
said  Maggie. 

"  And  her  mother  is  sick,"  said  Bessie ;  and 
you  know  we  ought  to  be  sorry  and  kind  to 
sick  people ;  and  you  know,  too,  we  ought  to 
forgive  as  we  w^ant  to  be  forgiven.     Couldn't 


273  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

you  do  it  for  the  sick  mother's  sake  ?  And 
maybe  this  will  be  a  good  lesson  to  Matilda." 

"  I'll  keep  her  for  your  sake,  and  strive  to 
be  more  patient  with  her  too,"  said  the  house- 
keeper ;  ''  and  I  think  you'll  never  lack  for 
comfort  and  kindness  when  you're  sick  your- 
selves :  at  least,  not  if  the  Lord  repays  what's 
done  for  Him,  as  the  good  book  says  He  does." 

"  And  how  much  must  we  pay  for  the 
pitcher  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  Not  a  penny.  I  don't  know  as  Matilda 
was  to  blame  this  time,  and  I  didn't  listen  to 
her  story  as  I  should,  I  own  ;  but  I've  been  so 
put  about  this  morning.  You  go  your  ways, 
you  little  dears ;  and  Matilda  shall  stay  for 
your  good  word." 

Now  the  children  did  not  know  it,  but  prob- 
ably the  good  word  of  the  two  little  strangers 
would  have  gone  but  little  way  with  the  angry 
house-keeper,  had  it  not  been  for  the  kindness 
done  to  her  sick  child  the  day  before ;  but  so 
it  was,  and  so  the  one  good  thing  sprang  from 
the  other. 


Good  Seed.  271 

They  left  Montreal  the  next  morning,  and 
then  came  two  long  days  of  railway  travelling, 
ending  in  Boston.  Here  they  stayed  only  a 
few  hours,  and  then  started  afresh  about  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  bound  "  for  Narragan- 
sett  Bay,"  papa  said,  when  he  was  asked  where 
they  were  now  going.  Bessie  was  so  thorough- 
ly tired  that  she  was  soon  glad  to  nestle  her 
head  against  her  father  and  go  to  sleep  :  a  very 
comfortable  sleep  it  was  too,  from  which  she 
did  not  wake  even  when  she  was  carried  from 
the  cars  to  a  carriage,  and  from  the  carriage 
into  a  certain  house.  Maggie,  too,  after  re- 
fusing similar  accommodation  from  Uncle 
Ruthven,  and  holding  herself  very  upright, 
and  stretching  her  eyes  very  wide  open,  at  last 
gave  in,  and  accepted  the  repeated  offer  of  his 
arm  as  a  pillow. 

But  they  both  roused  up  at  last  when  tliey 
were  brought  into  that  house.  Where  were 
they  now?  and  whose  voices  were  those,  so 
familiar  and  so  dear,  but  not  heard  for  many 
weeks  ? 


272  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Maggie  opened  her  eyes  with  a  start,  wide- 
awake on  the  instant,  and,  immediately  under- 
standing all,  gave  a  shriek  of  delight,  sprang 
off  the  sofa  where  Uncle  Ruthven  had  placed 
her,  and  was  fast  about  Mrs.  Rush's  neck,  ex- 
claiming, — 

"  It's  Newport !  it  is  Newport !  and  this  is 
A_unt  May's  house,  and  papa  has  surprised  us. 
Oh  !  lovely,  lovely  !  Bessie  1  Bessie  !  wake  up, 
and  hear  the  good  news." 

Bessie  slowly  opened  her  eyes  at  the  call, 
not  yet  understanding ;  but  as  she  saw  the 
face  that  was  bending  over  her,  and  knew  that 
here  was  her  "  own  dear  solger,"  whom  she 
had  so  longed  to  see,  she  gave  a  long  sigh  of 
intense  satisfaction,  and,  after  her  usual  man- 
ner wlien  her  heart  was  full  of  love  and  ten- 
derness, let  two  words  speak  for  her,  — 

^'  Uncle  Horace." 

There  was  no  surprise  in  the  tone,  only 
unspeakable  pleasure  and  affection  ;  and  she 
laid  her  head  against  his  shoulder  with  an  ex- 
pression of  utter  content. 


Good  Seed,  2"]"^ 

"  This  is  the  very  best  thing  in  all  our 
travels,"  said  Maggie.  "  Where  is  May  Bes- 
sie, Aunt  May  ?  " 

^'  Fast  asleep  in  her  cradle,  and  I  can't  let 
you  peep  at  her  to-night,"  said  Mrs.  Rush. 
''  We'll  keep  that  for  the  morning." 

Mamma  said  all  other  pleasures  must  be 
kept  for  the  morning,  save  that  of  folio wiiig 
May  Bessie's  example  ;  and  Bessie,  who  could 
scarcely  keep  her  eyes  open,  even  for  the  pur 
pose  of  looking  at  her  beloved  Colonel  Rush^ 
was  quite  ready  to  obey ;  but  Maggie  thought 
she  had  had  sleep  enough  for  one  night,  and 
would  like  at  once  to  make  acquaintance  with 
all  her  new  surroundings. 

''But  we  are  all  going  to  rest,  for  it  is 
nearly  midnight,"  said  the  colonel ;  which 
caused  Maggie  to  change  her  mind,  as  she 
had  no  fancy  for  staying  up  alone  ;  and  she 
was  now  eager- to  go  to  sleep  at  once,  so  that 
"  morning  might  come  before  she  knew  it," 
and  she  went  off  saying,  — 

"  I  never  saw  children  who  had  such  heapa 

18 


274  Bessie  on  her  Ti'avels, 

and  heaps  of  happiness  as  we  do.  I  don't 
know  how  I'm  ever  going  to  make  up  enough 
gratitude  for  it." 

Perhaps  her  gratitude  to  the  kind  hand 
which  showered  so  much  happiness  upon  her 
was  best  shown  in  the  sunny  spirit  with  which 
she  took  both  trials  and  blessings,  and  in  her 
readiness  to  share  the  latter  with  all  whom 
she  met. 


XII. 


HAPPY  DELIGHTS.*' 


OOF!  woof!  woof!  woof!" 

Was  it  possible  Flossie  knew  who 
was  in  that  pretty  room  where 
Maggie  and  Bessie  had  been  snugly  tucked 
away  last  night  ?  Certain  it  is  that  these 
sounds,  accompanied  by  a  violent  scratching 
at  the  door,  as  if  he  were  in  a  great  hurry 
to  have  it  opened,  awakened  our  little  sisters 
in  the  morning. 

"  Why !  "  said  Maggie,  in  great  surprise, 
*' if  that  don't  sound  like  —  why,  Janie  1  "  as 
her  eyes  fell  upon  the  smiling  face  of  Jane, 
looking  at  her  over  the  foot-board  of  her  bed. 

"Why,  Janie!"  repeated  Bessie  in  her 
tui'n.     "  Who  is  barking  ? "  she  added,  as  a 


2'j6  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

frcsK  burst  of  scratching,  and  "woof,  woof"- 
ing,  came  from  the  door. 

"  Shall  I  open  it  and  see  ? "  asked  Jane  ; 
and  she  opened  the  door,  when  in  ruslied 
Flossie,  who,  jumping  on  the  bed,  went  into  an 
ecstasy  of  delight  and  welcome  that  fell  little 
short  of  speaking.  He  wriggled  and  twisted 
and  barked,  and  nearly  wagged  his  tail  off, 
and  behaved  altogether  as  if  he  were  half  fran- 
tic. His  little  mistresses  almost  smothered 
him ;  but  he  did  not  object,  and  put  his  cold 
nose  in  their  faces,  and  wagged  and  wriggled 
harder  than  ever.  Never  was  such  a  delighted 
little  dog. 

Before  the  children  had  time  to  ask  any 
questions,  Frankie  came  running  in,  exclaim- 
ing,— 

"  Hi !  Maddie  and  Bessie.  Flossie  and  me 
and  Janie  found  you.  All  the  peoples  is  down- 
stairs to  brekwis." 

Maggie  was  dismayed.  All  the  people  down 
to  breakfast !  and  she  had  meant  to  be  awake 
with  the  first  streak  of  daylight.     Frankie  had 


'*  Haj^fy  Delights:'  277 

to  be  squeezed  and  kissed  of  course  ;  and  then 
Jane  and  nurse  were  begged  to  wash  and  dres^ 
them  as  fast  as  possible. 

"  Why,  what's  that  noise  ?  "  asked  Bessie 
while  nurse  was  busy  with  her.  "  It  sounds 
just  like  the  sea." 

"  The  wind  is  high  this  morning,"  said 
nurse,  who  had  had  her  orders. 

"  How  much  it  sounds  like  my  dear  sea," 
said  Bessie,  unsuspectingly,  as  she  glanced  up 
at  the  window  and  saw  the  branches  of  the 
trees  waving  about  in  what  was,  as  Mammy 
said,  rather  a  high  wind.  ''  Can't  we  have 
the  window  open,  so  we  could  hear  it  plainer  ? 
1  could  most  think  it  was  the  sea." 

"  It's  cool  this  morning.  Wait  for  open 
windows  till  you're  dressed  and  downstairs, " 
said  nurse. 

Bessie  said  no  more  ;  but  she  kept  turning 
her  head  and  listening  to  the  sound,  which 
seemed  to  her  to  be  distinct  from  that  of  the 
wind,  and  which  sounded  so  very  much  like 
her  beloved  sea. 


278  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

Meanwhile,  Maggie  was  quite  taken  up  with 
asking  questions  ;  hearing  how  grandmamma, 
Aunt  Annie,  the  boys,  Jane,  and  Flossie,  had 
come  to  Newport  by  last  night's  boat,  reach- 
ing there  early  in  the  morning,  before  she  had 
been  roused  from  that  ridiculously  long  sleep. 
Nothing  less  than  having  the  whole  family 
beneath  their  hospitable  roof,  would  satisfy 
Colonel  and  Mrs.  Rush  ;  and  they  had  con- 
trived to  carry  their  point. 

Maggie's  "  heaps  of  happiness  "  were  rising 
higher  and  higher.  When  they  were  ready, 
Jane  took  them  downstairs  ;  but  she  led  them 
by  a  back  corridor,  and  seemed  to  take  pains  to 
keep  them  away  from  windows  and  doors  wliich 
opened  upon  the  outside  of  the  house.  Cer- 
tainly she  and  nurse  acted  in  a  rather  strange 
and  "  mysterious  "  manner  that  morning.  But 
at  last  she  had  them  safely  at  the  door  of  the 
breakfast  room,  where  she  left  them. 

The  whole  party  were  still  seated  round  the 
table,  though  the  meal  was  about  over  when 
they  entered  ;  and  they  were  going  from  one 


''Hap^py  Delights:'  279 

to  another,  offering  kisses,  smiles^  and  wel- 
comes, when  Bessie's  eyes  fell  through  the 
open  sash  of  a  large  bow-window,  drawn  there 
by  that  same  sound  she  had  heard  upstairs. 

For  an  instant  she  stood  speechless  with 
astonishment  and  delight ;  then,  stretching 
out  her  hands  towards  the  window,  with  liei 
whole  face  lighting  up,  she  cried,  — 

"  It  is,  #  is,  it  is  the  very,  very  sea  !  my 
own  true  sea  !  " 

Yes !  there  it  was,  the  "  true  sea,"  as  she 
called  it,  or  more  properly  the  seashore  she 
loved  so  much.  Her  friends  watched  her 
for  a  moment  with  smiling  interest.  They 
had  expected  to  see  her  so  pleased  ;  and,  wish 
ing  to  be  present  when  she  first  beheld  it,  Mrs. 
Rush  had  so  arranged  that  she  and  ^laggie 
should  be  on  the  other  side  of  the  house  on 
the  first  morning,  and  nurse  and  Jane  had 
been  told  to  keep  them  as  much  as  possible 
from  the  sight  and  sound  of  the  sea. 

The  Colonel  rose,  and,  taking  her  hand,  led 
her   out  upon  the  broad   piazza,   where   she 


2So  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

might  see  the  whole  extent  of  land  and  water 
which  the  magnificent  view  afforded. 

The  house  stood  on  very  high  ground,  over- 
looking a  cliff  in  front,  which  fell  sheer  down 
to  the  water.  To  the  left,  was  a  broad,  sweep- 
ing curve  of  beach,  on  which  the  waves  were 
breaking ;  the  long  white  rollers,  with  their 
curling  tops,  following  one  another  in  grand 
procession,  and  making  beautiful  -^nd  solemn 
music  as  their  march  was  ended.  Away  to 
the  right  lay  a  wilder,  but  hardly  a  grander, 
scene.  Here  were  great,  rugged  rocks,  among 
and  over  which  dashed  and  foamed  the  waves, 
whose  course  they  barred.  Some  were  hidden 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  the 
feathery  foam  which  boiled  and  bubbled  over 
their  jagged  faces,  alone  told  where  tliey  lay. 
Beyond,  and  far  away,  stretched  the  boundless 
ocean,  the  sea  Bessie  so  loved  ;  the  white  crests 
of  its  waves  flashing  and  sparkling  in  the 
glorious  sunshine  of  that  bright  morning ; 
the  blue  and  cloudless  sky,  overhead.  And  the 
hymn  which  the  grand  old  king  was  sounding 


''Haffy  Delights^  281 

in  Bessie's  ear,  was  still  that  she  had  so  loved 
two  summers  ago,  the  chant  of  praise  which 
bids  all  who  can  hear,  "  remember  om^  Father 
who  made  it." 

She  stood  holding  the  Colonel's  hand,  gaz- 
ing and  listening,  as  though  eye  and  ear  could 
not  take  their  fill;  breakfast  was  unheeded, 
and  it  was  not  till  grandmamma  reproachfully 
asked  if  4^6  was  to  be  forgotten  for  the  sea, 
that  Bessie  could  be  persuaded  to  turn  away. 

Maggie,  too,  was  delighted  to  be  once  more 
at  the  seashore  ;  but  she  had  not  the  longing 
for  it  that  Bessie  had,  and  all  places  were 
about  equally  pleasant  to  her,  provided  she 
had  those  she  loved  with  her. 

But  now  May  Bessie  was  brought,  and  even 
the  sea  was  for  the  time  forgotten  in  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  her  and  noticing  how  much  she 
had  grown  and  improved.  When  a  little  life  is 
counted  by  months,  two  of  these  make  a  great 
difference,  and  it  was  as  long  as  that  since 
Maggie  and  Bessie  had  seen  Mrs.  Rush's  baby. 
She  was  a  sweet,  bright,  little  thing  ;  and  it 


282  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

might  have  been  thought  that  she  had  seen  the 

children  every  day,  so  speedily  did  she  make 
friends  with  them.  Indeed,  Bessie  was  sure 
the  baby  recognized  them,  and  intended  to 
show  she  was  glad  to  see  them  ;  and  no  one 
cared  to  disturb  this  belief,  in  which  she  took 
great  satisfaction.  It  was  funny  to  see  the 
patronizing  airs  which  little  Annie  put  on 
towards  the  younger  baby,  and  the^are  which 
she  showed  for  her.  She  called  her  "  Dolly," 
and  seemed  to  think  it  hard  and  strange  that 
she  was  not  allowed  to  pull  and  carry  her 
about  as  she  would  have  done  a  real  doll. 
Aunt  Patty,  who  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to 
Mrs.  Rush,  had  made  several  toys  and  pretty 
things  for  her  baby's  use,  and  among  them 
was  a  worsted  doll,  in  all  respects  like  the  lost 
Peter  Bartholomew. 

May  Bessie  had  not  the  same  objections  to 
this  gentleman  that  little  Annie  had  to  hers, 
but  opened  great  eyes,  and  cooed  and  crowed 
at  him  ;  and  altogether  showed  more  pleasure 
in  him  than  in  any  other  plaything  she  pos- 


''Hai>j^y  Dcl-'ghtsr  283 

sessed.     Not   so  Annie,  when  he  was  intro- 
duced to  her. 

"  See  here,  baby.     Who  is  this  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Bradford,  wishing  to  see  if  she  would  recog- 
nize it,  and  she  held  up  the  doll  before  the 
eyes  of  her  by  no  means  gratified  baby  daugh 
ter. 

The  pet  drew  up  her  rose-bud  of  a  mouth 
into  the  most  comical  expression  of  astonish- 
ment and  disgust  at  the  sight  of  the  old  ob- 
ject of  her  dislike  ;  for,  as  was  quite  natural, 
she  took  it  to  be  the  very  same  Peter  Bartholo- 
mew. Then,  taking  him  from  her  mother's 
hand,  she  gravely  marched  with  him  to  the 
hearth-rug,  and,  tucking  him  beneath  it,  sat 
down  upon  it,  saying,  "  Tit  on  Peter,"  iw  a 
tone  of  triumph,  as  though  she  thought  she 
had  now  altogether  extinguished  the  unlucky 
offender.  Great  was  her  indignation  when, 
later  in  the  day,  she  was  brought  in  from  her 
drive,  and  found  Peter  Bartholemew  No.  2 
had  reappeared.  Finding  the  hearth-rug  was 
not  a  safe   hiding-place,  she    was   from   this 


284  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

time  constantly  contriving  ways  and  means 
for  putting  him  out  of  sight ;  but  only  to  find 
tliat  he  as  constantly  turned  up  again.  In 
vain  did  she  throw  him  out  of  windows,  and 
behind  doors ;  poke  him  through  the  banis- 
ters, and  let  him  fall  in  the  hall  below :  tuck 
him  behind  sofa-cushions,  and  squeeze  him 
into  the  smallest  possible  corners,  with  all 
manner  of  things  piled  on  top  of  him  :  he 
still  proved  a  source  of  trouble  to  her.  The 
other  children  found  great  amusement  in  this, 
and  in  pretending  to  hunt  for  Peter,  while 
they  knew  very  well  wliere  he  was. 

But  on  the  third  day  they  really  hunted  in 
vain.  Peter  Bartholomew  the  second  seemed 
to  be  as  thoroughly  "  all  don,"  as  his  name- 
sake who  had  been  left  on  the  far-away  South- 
ern railroad  ;  and  the  nurses  joined  in  the 
search  with  no  better  success.  Annie  seemed 
to  have  accomplished  her  object  this  time  ; 
and  the  little  one  herself  could  not  be  per- 
suaded to  say  where  she  had  put  him.  Her 
mother,  tried  to  make  her  tell ;  but  the  child 


''Haffy  Delightsr  285 

seemed  really  to  have  forgotten,  and  the  mat- 
ter was  allowed  to  rest. 

However,  Peter  came  to  light  at  last,  to 
light  very  nearly  in  earnest.  In  Mrs.  Rush's 
nursery  was  a  large,  open  fireplace,  where 
wood  was  always  laid  ready  for  lighting  when 
a  fire  should  be  needed  for  the  baby.  One 
cool  morning,  about  a  week  after  Peter's  dis- 
appearance. May  Bessie's  nurse  lit  the  fire, 
when  Annie,  who  sat  upon  Mammy's  knee, 
suddenly  exclaimed,  as  the  smoke  began  to 
curl  up  the  chimney,  — 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear  !  Peter  'moke." 
"  You  monkey,"  said  nurse,  ''  I  believe 
you've  put  him  behind  the  wood ; "  and  the 
two  nurses  hastened  to  scatter  the  fire,  when, 
sure  enough,  Peter  Bartholemew  was  drawn 
Tortli,  slightly  scorched  and  smelling  some- 
w^hat  of  "  'moke,"  but  otherwise  unhurt.  An- 
nie took  it  hard,  however,  and  was  so  grieved 
at  his  reappearance  that  Mrs.  Rush,  who  was 
in  the  nursery,  said  he  had  better  be  put  away 
while  she  stayed.     Probably  the  lighting  of 


286  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

the  fire  recalled  to  baby's  mind  where  she  had 
put  the  lost  Peter. 

But  we  must  go  back  to  the  first  morning 
of  their  stay  at  Newport.  The  ladies  were  all 
rather  tired  with  their  journey  and  were  dis- 
posed to  rest ;  but  the  children,  refreshed  by 
a  good  night's  sleep,  were  quite  ready  to  start 
out  with  the  gentlemen  for  a  ramble  on  the 
beach. 

"  Do  you  like  this  as  well  as  Quam  Beach  ?  " 
asked  the  Colonel  of  Bessie,  as  she  sat  beside 
him  on  a  rock,  with  his  arm  drawn  close 
about  her,  as  in  the  old  days  of  two  summers 
since  :  those  days  when  she  had  come,  a  little 
Heaven-sent  messenger,  across  his  path,  to 
guide  his  wandering  feet  into  the  road  which 
leads  to  Eternal  Life.  Was  it  any  wonder 
that,  thinking  of  this,  he  looked  down  with  a 
very  tender  love  on  the  dear  little  one,  over 
whose  work  the  angels  of  Heaven  had  re- 
joiced ? 

They  liad  both  sat  silent  for  some  time,  the 
rest  of  the  party  having  wandered  to  a  short 


^'Haffy  Delights^  287 

distance,  when  tlie  Colonel  asked  this  ques- 
tion,— 

"  Do  you  like  this  as  well  as  Quam  Beach. 
Bessie  ? '' 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  !  better,"  said  Bessie.  "  I 
never  did  see  such  a  lovely,  lovely  place  as 
this,  or  feel  such  nice  air.  It's  the  best  place 
we  went  to  in  all  our  travels ;  and  then  we 
have  you  and  most  all  the  people  we  love  here. 
I  am  so  very  contented." 

She  looked  so  indeed,  as  she  sat  smiling  and 
happy,  looking  out  over  the  sapphire  blue 
waters,  and  watching  the  white-capped  waves 
which  broke  almost  at  her  feet. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Colonel,  smiling.  "  I 
thought  it  would  add  to  your  contentment  to 
have  all  your  people  here  to  meet  you,  if  I 
could  bring  it  about." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  who  came  dancing  up 
in  time  to  hear  these  last  words.  ''  It  was  so 
very  considerate  of  you  and  Aunt  May.  Oh  ! 
tills  is  the  very  happiest  world  I  ever  lived  in. 
I  wish,  I  xoisli^  I  could  live  a  thousand  years  in 
it." 


288  Bessie  on  her  Ti'avels, 

"  But  Maggie,"  said  Bessie,  "  then  you'd  be 
so  very  long  away  from  heaven." 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  Maggie ;  "  but  then  Pd 
hope  to  go  to  heaven  after  the  thousand  years, 
and  I'd  try  to  be  very  good  all  the  time." 

"  But  long  before  the  thousand  years  were 
past,  all  whom  you  love  would  have  gone  away 
to  that  still  happier  home  our  Lord  has  pre- 
pared for  us,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  and  then  you 
would  be  lonely  and  wish  to  follow,  would  you 
not,  Maggie  ? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Maggie,  a  shade  of 
thoughtfulness  coming  over  her  sunny  face. 
"  I'm  sure  I  would  if  all  my  dear  friends 
went  to  heaven,  and  maybe  some  of  them 
wouldn't  want  to  live  a  thousand  years." 

"And  it's  so  hard  always  to  be  good,"  said 
Bessie,  "  and  sometimes  even  we  have  troubles, 
and  are  sick,  even  though  we  are  so  happy 
'most  all  the  time." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  "  so  we  do.  I'm  not 
sick  much  'cept  when  I  have  the  earache :  but 
maybe  I'd  be  lame  and  deaf  and  blind  and 


''Haffy  Delightsr  289 

hump-backed,  and  all  kind  of  things,  before  I 
was  a  thousand  years  old ;  and  that  would  be 
horrid.  I  wouldn't  like  to  have  a  great  many 
troubles  either  ;  so  I  guess  it's  better  it  is  fixed 
for  me  just  as  God  chooses." 

"  We  may  be  sure  of  that,  dear,"  said  the 
Colonel.  "  God  knows  what  is  best  for  us, 
and  rules  our  lives  for  our  good  and  His 
glory." 

"  I'm  not  sure  I  mind  so  very  much  about 
the  being  naughty  now  and  then,"  said  Mag- 
gie. "I  know  I  ought  to,  but  I'm  afraid  I 
don't.  I  s'pose  when  I  have  so  much  to  make 
me  happy  I  ought  to  be  full  of  remorse  all  the 
time  for  ever  being  naughty,  but  somehow  1 
can't  be.  And  I  do  have  afflictions  some- 
times. Oh ! "  she  added,  as  the  thought  of 
her  last  severe  trouble  came  over  her,  "  we 
forgot  to  give  Uncle  Horace  the  things  we 
prepared  for  him.  You  see.  Uncle  Horace, 
one  day  I  found  such  a  very  nice  proverb, 
'  though  lost  to  sight  to  memory  dear ; '  and- 
Bessie  and  I  thought  we  would  like  to  practise 

19 


290  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

it  on  you ;  so  I  finished  up  that  poem  \ 
began,  and  Bessie  drew  a  picture  for  you,  and 
here  is  the  poem,"  and  Maggie  drew  from  her 
pocket  the  poem,  nicely  finished  and  copied 
out. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  dear,"  said  the 
ColoneL  "  I  am  very  much  pleased ;  but  I 
thought  that  the  poem  was  lost,  or  that  you 
had  been  robbed  of  it." 

"  Papa  got  it  back  for  me,"  said  Maggie. 

"  Yes,"  said  jBessie  ;  "  and  I  was  with  papa 
when  he  asked  Mr.  Temple  for  it ;  and  I  was 
sorry  for  Mr.  Temple,  even  though  he  did 
tease  you  so,  Maggie." 

"  Why,  papa  didn't  scold  him,  did  he  ?  " 
asked  Maggie. 

^'  No,"  answered  Bessie  ;  "  he  only  said, 
^  Mr.  Temple,  may  I  trouble  you  for  that 
paper  belonging  to  my  little  girl ; '  but  he 
mannered  him,  and  I  wouldn't  like  papa  to 
have  such  a  manner  to  me,  and  Mr.  Temple 
looked  ashamed.  He  is  a  very  unpleasant 
gentleman  ;  but  I  was  sorry  for  him." 


^'Haffy  Delights^  291 

"  But  where  is  the  picture  ?  "  asked  Colonel 
Rush. 

''  Here,"  said  Bessie,  and  in  her  turn  she 
produced  a  paper  from  her  pocket  and  un- 
folded it  before  the  Colonel's  eyes.  "  It  is 
Adam  and  Eve  in  the  garden  of  Eden,"  she 
went  on  to  say :  "  here  they  are,  and  there  is 
the  tree  with  the  serpent  on  it,  and  there  is 
another  with  birds  and  squir'ls  on  it/  The 
squir'ls  are  eating  nuts,  and  the  birds  are 
pecking  peaches,  and  they  are  having  a  nice 
time." 

"  This  is  very  interesting,"  said  the  Colonel, 
not  thinking  it  necessary  to  tell  her  that 
peaches  and  nuts  did  not  usually  grow  on  the 
same  tree ;  "  and  what  is  this  in  the  corner, 
Bessie  ? " 

"  That  is  the  bower  they  made  for  a  home 
to  live  in,"  said  Bessie;  "  and  there  is  Adam's 
wheelbarrow  and  Eve's  watering-pot.  I  s'pose 
she  helped  Adam  take  care  of  the  garden: 
don't  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  And  this  ? "  asked  the  Colonel,  pointing 


292  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

to  another  object  which  he  had  vainly  been 
endeavoring  to  make  out.  "  It  is  a  pigeon 
house,  I  think." 

"  Oh,  no,  sirl "  said  Bessie,  rather  mortified. 
''  It  is  a  flag,  the  flag  of  England.  I  was 
going  to  put  the  'merican  flag :  but  I  thought 
it  would  be  more  a  compliment  to  you  to  put 
your  own  country's  ;  and  so  I  did.  There's  the 
\ion  ;  "  and  she  pointed  out  something  which 
looked  rather  more  like  a  spider  than  a  lion ; 
feeling  the  while,  poor  little  soul,  rather  hurt 
that  her  compliment  had  not  been  appreciated 
without  explanation. 

Now  Maggie  had  had  her  doubts  as  to 
whether  a  flag  was  altogether  a  suitable  orna- 
ment for  the  garden  of  Eden,  but  she  had  not 
chosen  to  say  so  to  Bessie,  who  had  taken 
great  pains  with  her  picture  ;  and  she  watched 
the  Colonel's  face  closely  to  see  if  she  could 
find  any  sign  of  amusement  or  surprise. 

Not  the  slightest.  He  sat  gravely  smooth- 
ing down  his  moustache,  as  Bessie  explained 
the  picture  to  him,  not  a  smile  disturbing  the 


''Haffy  Delightsr  293 

iiiies  of  his  face,  not  a  twinkle  breaking  into 
those  black  eyes,  looking  only  interested  and 
pleased ;  and  Maggie  dismissed  her  fears  and 
satisfied  herself  that  the  flag  was  not  at  all 
ont  of  place. 

"  This  is  a  compliment,  indeed,"  said  the 
Colonel  with  the  utmost  gravity.  "  You  were 
very,  very  kind  to  think  of  it,  Bessie ;  and 
Adam  and  Eve  were,  as  Maggie  says,  extreme- 
ly considerate  to  allow  the  flag  of  my  country 
to  be  planted  in  the  garden  of  Eden.  I  must 
show  this  to  Aunt  May,  and  shall  certainly 
keep  it  for  May  Bessie  when  she  is  old  enough 
to  understand  it.  But  see,  who  is  coming 
here  ?  " 

The  children  followed  the  direction  of  his 
eye.  Two  figures  were  coming  down  the 
beach,  —  a  tall  one,  and  a  little  one.  Was  it 
possible  ?  Yes  ;  it  really  was  Mr.  Powers  and 
Belle,  dear  little  Belle,  whom  Bessie  had  been 
longing  to  see. 

A  shriek  from  Maggie,  who  went  tumbling 
over  a  rock  in  her  haste  to  reach  them,  but 


294  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

picked  herself  up  and  rushed  on,  regardless 
of  grazed  knees  and  elbows;  an  exclamation, 
less  noisy,  but  quite  as  full  of  pleasure,  from 
Bessie,  —  and  the  three  little  friends  had  met 
again.  There  was  Frankie  too,  who  had  been 
carting  sea-weed,  but  had  dropped  spade  and 
wagon-tongue  at  sight  of  Belle,  of  whom  he 
was  very  fond  ;  and  then  there  was  such  a 
hugging  and  kissing,  such  an  interlacing  of 
heads  and  arms  and  feet,  that  it  would  have 
been  difficult  to  tell  to  which  little  person  each 
set  belonged.  Belle  did  not  object  to  the 
smothering  she  received ;  on  the  contrary,  she 
seemed  to  enjoy  it,  and  Frankie  soon  relieved 
her  from  his  share,  saying  in  a  tone  of  great 
importance,  — 

"  I  have  bis-er-ness  to  'tend  to,"  and 
marched  off  to  his  sea-weed. 

"  I  shall  call  Newport  the  '  Country  of  Hap- 
py Delights'  when  I  write  about  it  in  the 
'  Complete  Family,'  "  said  Maggie.  "  I  never 
iid  see  such  a  place.  Did  you  happen  here, 
Belle,  or  did  you  know  you  were  coming  ?  " 


""Haffy  Delights:'  295 

"  We  happened,"  said  Belle,  "  least  Daph- 
ne and  I  did  ;  but  I  think  papa  knew  we 
were  coming  when  he  brought  us." 

"  That  was  just  the  way  with  us,"  said  Bes- 
sie :  "  all  the  big  people  knew  we  were  coming ; 
but  Maggie  and  I  were  so  glad  and  surprised. 
How  long  have  you  been  here,  Belle  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  about  half  a  year,"  said  Belle. 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Maggie  ;  "  for  it's  only  a 
month  since  we  left  you  in  New  York." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  said  Belle.  "  Well,  we  came  last 
Friday  ;  and  then  papa  brought  me  here  to 
see  Aunt  May.  We  live  in  the  hotel ;  but 
Aunt  May  says  I  must  come  over  every  day 
and  play  with  you.  It  was  so  lonesome  wifout 
you,"  and  Belle  put  an  arm  about  the  neck  of 
each  of  her  little  playmates,  looking  from  one 
to  the  other  with  loving,  satisfied  eyes.  "  You 
see,  Bessie,  I  grew  to  love  you  and  Maggie  so 
much,  I  can't  very  well  stay  away  from  you ; 
and  so  I  wasn't  very  patient  till  you  came." 

"  Did  you  know  we  were  coming  ?  "  asked 
Maggie. 


296  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

"  Yes,  Aunt  May  told  me  'cause  I  was  so 
homesick  for  you  ;  and  papa  said  he  brought 
me  here  so  1  could  see  you  sooner.  Wasn't 
it  good  of  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie.  "  Now  let's  go  and 
have  a  good  play.  Aunt  May  gave  us  pails 
and  spades  to  play  in  the  sand  with,  Belle,  and 
I  will  lend  you  mine." 

But  there  proved  to  be  no  need  of  this ;  for 
Belle  had  been  furnished  with  a  spade  and 
pail  of  her  own,  and  Daphne  now  appeared 
with  them  ;  so  the  little  girls  joined  Frankie. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Frankie  ?  "  asked 
Belle. 

"  Helpin'  Dod,"  said  Frankie. 

"  Why,  Frankie ! "  said  Bessie,  rather 
shocked :  "  it's  not  respectful  for  you  to  say 
you're  helping  God.  He  can  do  every  thing 
Himself,  without  any  one  to  help  Him." 

"  Well,"  said  Frankie,  taking  up  another 
spadeful  of  sea-weed  and  tossing  it  into  his 
wagon,  "  maybe  so ;  but  I  dess  He  has  too 
much  trouble  to  make  so  much  waves,  and 


"^Haffy  Delights''  297 

keep  pushing  dis  sea-weed  up  all  de  time  ;  so  I 
jest  putting  it  a  little  way  farder  for  Him," 
and  away  he  went  with  another  wagon-load  of 
sea-weed,  which  he  was  carting  higher  up  the 
beach. 

The  three  little  girls  did  not  know  whether 
to  laugh  or  not;  but,  presently,  Maggie  said, — • 

"  I  guess  we  need  not  be  shocked  at  him. 
He  thinks  he's  doing  something  right,  and 
we  won't  disturb  his  mind  about  it.  He's  such 
a  funny  child." 

He  was  a  droll  fellow,  to  be  sure,  that 
Frankie ;  always  making  odd  speeches ;  and 
like  Maggie  in  one  thing,  that  one  never  knew 
which  way  his  ideas  would  turn.  Like  Mag- 
gie, also,  he  would  never  allow  that  he  could 
not  reply  to  any  question  which  might  be  put  to 
him;  but,  if  he  had  not  the  right  answer, 
would  contrive  one  which  would  fit  the  occa- 
sion more  or  less  well. 

He  now  came  running  up  to  his  father,  who, 
with  the  other  gentlemen,  had  joined  Colonel 
Rush,  and  exclaimed  eagerly,  — 


V 


298  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

"  Papa,  papa,  tome  quit.  I  taught  a  nassy 
lobster  ;  let's  tate  him  to  the  house  and  eat 
him." 

This  was  not  a  very  inviting  proposal,  cer- 
tainly ;  but  the  little  boy  was  so  anxious  that 
some  one  should  see  his  "  nassy  lobster,"  that 
Mr.  Bradford  and  Mr.  Stanton  went  with  him ; 
the  little  girls  also  running  to  see. 

The  "  nassy  lobster  "  proved  to  be  one  of 
those  ugly  shell-fish  called  horseshoes,  which 
had  been  left  there  by  the  tide,  and  which 
Frankie  had  contrived  to  turn  over  on  its 
back.  He  was  rather  disgusted  with  his  prize, 
however,  now  that  he  had  captured  it ;  and,  in 
spite  of  his  request  that  it  should  be  taken 
home  and  cooked,  looked  very  scornfully  at  it, 
and  pronounced  it  "  degusting  as  any  sing." 

Talking  of  cooking  his  fish  had  put  him  in ' 
mind  that  he  was  hungry,  after  his  play  in  the 
fresh   sea-air ;     and    now,    coming   back   and 
standing  at  his  father's  knee,  he  said  rather 
plaintively,  — 

"  I  wish  Jesus  was  here." 


A 


""Haffy  Deh'ghts''  299 

«  Why,  Frankie  ? "  asked  Mr.  Bradford. 

"  'Tause  He  would  dive  me  some  fish  and 
bread  lite  He  did  all  those  many  people,"  re- 
plied Frankie,  who  had  lately  heard  the  story 
of  Christ  feeding  the  multitude  with  the  five 
loaves  and  two  fishes.  He  was  very  fond  of 
Bible'  stories,  this  little  boy,  and  liked  to  apply 
them  to  himself  and  those  about  him. 

"  Tell  me  about  that,  Frankie,  while  Daph- 
ne goes  to  the  house  for  some  biscuits  for  you," 
said  the  Colonel ;  and  Frankie  repeated  in  a 
droll,  but  still  sweet  and  simple  way,  the  story 
of  the  grand  miracle. 

"  But  how  was  it  that  there  was  enough  for 
so  many  people  when  there  was  so  little  food, 
Frankie  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Powers,  wishing  to  hear 
what  the  child  would  say. 

The  little  fellow  looked  thoughtful  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  stood  rubbing  up  his  hair  with  his 
hand ;  but  he  was  not  to  be  conquered  even 
by  a  question  hard  as  this,  and  presently, 
seeing  a  way  out  of  his  difficulty,  his  face 
lighted  up  as  he  exclaimed, — 


• 


300  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  Betause  our  Lord  did  not  dive  'em  dood 
appetites.  You  ought  to  know  dat  yousef, 
sir : "  and,  with  this,  he  ran  away  to  meet 
Daphne,  whom  he  saw  coming  with  his  wished- 
for  biscuits. 


XIII. 

LITTLE  ACTS  OF  KINDNESS;  LITTLE  DEEDS 
OF  LOVE. 


ijUNT  MAY'S  invitation  to  come  every- 
day and  play  with  Maggie  and  Bessie 
was  never  once  lost  sight  of  by  Belle, 
who  was  only  too  glad  to  accept  it,  and  be 
with  her  beloved  little  playmates  as  much  as 
possible. 

It  was  surprising  to  see  how  much  Belle 
had  improved  during  these  months  she  had 
been  so  much  with  Maggie  and  Bessie  :  no, 
not  surprising  either  to  any  one  who  knew 
how  much  a  good  example  can  do ;  at  least 
when  it  shines  before  eyes  which  are  willing 
and  ready  to  profit  by  its  light. 

^nd  this  was  so  with  dear  little  Belle.    She 


302  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

was  not  naturally  an  obstinate  or  selfish  child  ; 
and  her  faults  had  come  chiefly  from  the  over- 
indulgence of  her  father  and  Daphne,  who  sel- 
dom or  never  contradicted  her,  but  allowed  her 
to  think  that  she  must  always  have  her  own 
way.  S-he  had  never  been  taught  tlie  duty  and 
pleasure  of  yielding  to  others,  until  she  was 
thrown  so  constantly  with  our  little  girls  ;  and 
then  the  lesson  came  to  her  almost  without 
words.  She  could  not  have  better  teaching 
than  she  found  in  the  grave  surprise  in  Bes- 
sie's sweet  eyes  when  she  worried  her  father, 
and  fretted  herself  for  some  forbidden  pleas- 
ure, or  when  she  was  wilful  and  imperious  with 
her  devoted  old  nurse  ;  or  in  her  gentle, "  You 
wouldn't  tease  your  father  when  you're  his 
little  comfort:  would  you.  Belle  ?  "  She  could 
not  but  learn  ready  obedience,  generosity,  and 
thoughtfulness  for  others,  when  she  saw  them 
put  in  daily  practice  even  by  Maggie,  who  had 
so  much  natural  heedlessness  to  struggle  with  ; 
and,  almost  without  knowing  it,  she  strove  to 
copy  her  little  friends,  and  to  put  away  the  old 
self-will  and  impatience. 


Little  Acts  of  Kindfiess.  303 

"  Wliy !  how  obedient  and  good  my  little 
daughter  is  growing,"  said  her  father,  one 
day,  surprised  at  her  ready  submission  when 
he  was  obliged  to  refuse  her  some  pleasure  she 
had  begged  for. 

"  'Cause  Bessie  says  mamma  and  Jesus  will 
be  glad  when  I'm  good,"  Belle  answered,  lay- 
ing her  cheek  against  her  father's  ;  "  and  she 
said  that  was  the  best  way  to  make  you  happy 
too,  papa.  She  says  when  we  love  um  we  try 
to  please  um.     Isn't  that  true,  papa  ?  " 

"  Very  true,  my  darling.  Bessie  is  a  dear 
little  girl,  and  I  am  glad  that  you  remember 
when  she  tells  you  what  is  right." 

"  She  does  it  more  than  she  tells  it,  papa : 
that's  why  I  'member  so  much.  It  makes  me 
feel  'shamed  when  Maggie  and  Bessie  see  I  am 
naughty." 

"  I  won't  go  to  Aunt  May's  this  morning, 
papa,"  she  said  another  day  when  her  father 
told  her  to  go  and  be  made  ready. 

"  What !  stay  away  from  your  dear  Maggie 
and  Bessie  ?  "  said  Mr.  Powers.  "  How  is 
that?'* 


304  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  Daplme  is  sick,  papa  :  she  has  such  aheg- 
get"  —  Belle  meant  headache  —  "she  could 
hardly  dress  me  this  morning,  and  had  to  lie 
right  down.  If  she  has  to  get  up  again,  I'm 
afraid  she  will  be  more  worse,  so  I  will  stay 
home  to-day." 

But  Belle's  voice  shook  as  she  proposed  this, 
for  it  was  a  great  sacrifice  for  her.  Six  months 
since  she  would  not  have  thought  of  denying 
herself  any  thing  for  the  sake  of  her  old  nurse, 
and  her  father  was  both  pleased  and  touched. 

"  Then  papa's  unaccustomed  fingers  will  see 
what  they  can  do,"  he  said,  unwilling  that  his 
little  girl  should  lose  her  day's  pleasure  ;  and, 
if  Belle  were  not  quite  as  neatly  dressed  as 
usual,  no  fault  was  found,  and  "  Aunt  Mar- 
garet "  soon  remedied  all  that  was  wrong. 

But  another  bit  of  self-denial  came  in  Belle's 
way  that  day,  and  that  she  carried  out. 

Coming  in  with  two  or  three  bunches  of  fine 
hot-house  grapes, — the  first  of  the  season, — in 
his  hand,  Colonel.  Rush  found  the  children  on 
the  piazza,  playing  "  party  "  with  their  dolls' 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  305 

teacups  and  saucers.  Two  other  little  girls, 
the  children  of  a  neighbor,  were  playing  with 
them.  He  stopped  and  gave  Maggie  a  bunch 
to  divide  amongst  them.  They  were  greatly 
pleased  with  this  little  treat ;  but  Maggie  and 
Bessie  were  rather  surprised  to  see  Belle  put 
hers  aside  on  one  of  the  doll's  plates,  as  if 
she  did  not  intend  to  eat,  or  even  play  with 
them. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  play  with  yours  ?  " 
asked  Maggie,  rather  reproachfully. 

Belle  colored  a  little,  and  said  with  some 
hesitation,  — 

"  I  wanted  to  save  them." 

Belle  was  not  like  some  children  who  would 
rather  enjoy  a  nice  thing  by  themselves,  and 
the  others  were  surprised. 

Now  Belle  would  have  been  ready  enough  to 
tell  Maggie  and  Bessie  why  she  wanted  to  keep 
the  grapes,  but  she  did  not  care  to  do  so  before 
the  young  visitors  ;  lest  as  she  afterwards  said, 
they  should  think  she  was  ''  proud  of  herself 
for  doing  it." 


3o6  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  She  thinks  we'll  give  her  some  of  ours, 
and  then  she'll  eat  up  her  own  afterwards," 
said  Minnie  Barlow,  one  of  the  little  guests. 

"  I  don't  either,"  said  Belle,  flushing  angri- 
ly:  "I  wouldn't  eat  one  of  your  old  grapes, 
not  if  you  begged  and  begged  me  to." 

"  No,"  said  Bessie,  putting  her  arm  about 
Belle's  neck  :  "  Belle  never  does  greedy  things. 
I  know  she  has  a  very  excellent  reason  if  she 
don't  eat  them.     Are  you  sick.  Belle  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Belle  ;  and  then  she  whispered 
in  Bessie's  ear,  "  but  poor  Daphne  is  sick,  and 
I  am  going  to  keep  my  grapes  for  her.  She 
likes  them  very  much." 

"  And  I'll  give  you  mine  for  her  too,"  said 
Bessie,  "  'cause  yours  make  only  a  few  for 
her  when  she  is  sick."  Then  she  said  aloud  : 
"I'm  going  to  keep  my  grapes  too  ;  and  Mag- 
gie, I  think  you'd  keep  yours,  if  you  knew  the 
circumstance." 

"  Then  I  will,"  said  Maggie  ;  and  turning 
to  the  little  strangers  she  added,  "  Bessie 
knows  what's  inside  of  my  mind  most  as  well 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  307 

as  I  do  myself;  so  if  she  tells  me  I  would  do  a 
thing,  I  just  know  I  would." 

So  Maggie,  too,  put  by  her  share  of  the  grapes, 
till  the  company  had  gone,  and  Belle  felt  free 
to  tell  what  she  wanted  to  do  with  them  ;  when 
she  agreed  that  Bessie  was  right,  and  she  was 
quite  ready  to  save  her  grapes  for  such  a  "  cir- 
cumstance." It  was  hut  a  small  act  of  self- 
denial  for  these  little  girls  to  make  out  of  their 
abundance  ;  but  who  can  tell  the  pleasure  the 
gift  gave  to  old  Daphne.  And  verily  Belle  had 
her  reward. 

"  Now  Heaven  bress  my  child,"  said  the  old 
woman,  when  Belle  offered  the  grapes,  and 
told  that  she  and  her  young  friends  had  kept 
them  from  their  play :  "  if  she  ain't  grow- 
in'  jes  like  her  dear  mamma,  who  was  alius 
thinkin'  for  oders." 

Nothing  could  have  pleased  Belle  more  than 
to  be  told  she  was  like  her  dear  mother  ;  but 
she  said,  — 

"  1  didn't  used  to  think  for  ofers  much, 
Daphne  ;  not  till  I  saw  Bessie  do  it,  and  Mag- 
gie too.     They  taught  me." 


3o8  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"Never  min'  wlio  taught  ye,  so  long  as 
you're  willin'  to  learn,"  said  Daphne.  "  But 
I  say  Heaven  bress  them  dear  little  girls  too, 
as  I  knows  it  will." 

Pleased  as  Daphne  was,  she  would  have 
been  better  satisfied  if  her  little  mistress  had 
taken  back  her  gift  for  her  own  use ;  but  Belle 
insisted  that  she  should  eat  the  grapes  herself, 
and  indeed  climbed  on  her  lap  and  stuffed  them 
one  after  the  other  into  her  mouth,  refusing  to 
taste  one  herself. 

"  What  is  that,  Uncle  Horace  ? "  asked 
Maggie,  one  afternoon  when  she  and  Bessie 
were  out  driving  on  the  Avenue  with  Colonel 
Rush,  Aunt  Bessie,  and  the  boys. 

The  object  of  her  interest  was  certainly  of 
a  nature  to  excite  curiosity.  It  was  a  round 
building  of  stone,  supported  by  eight  pillars, 
with  open  arches  between.  In  the  wall,  above 
the  pillars,  were  three  narrow  loop-holes  o 
openings.  It  could  scarcely  have  been  told, 
however,  that  it  was  built  of  stone ;  for  pillars 
and  round  walls  were  alike  covered  with  beauti- 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  309 

ful  grtjen  vines,  just  now  in  all  their  summer 
glory.  It  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  small  park 
or  common,  where  children  and  nurses  were 
playing  and  wandering  about. 

"That,"  said  Colonel  Rush,  "is  the  old 
stone  mill." 

"  I  don't  think  it  looks  much  like  a  mill," 
said  Bessie  :  "  it  don't  have  any  things  to  go 
round." 

"  Probably  it  had  things  to  go  round,  as 
you  call  them,  once  upon  a  time,"  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  I  thought  it  was  a  tower  built  by  the  early 
settlers  to  defend  themselves  from  the  Ind- 
ians," said  Harry.  "  Willie  Thorn  told  me 
so." 

"  Many  people  think  so,"  said  the  Colonel, 
"  and  some  still  believe  that  it  was  built  by 
the  Danes,  hundreds  of  years  ago." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Fred,  "  this  is  the  tower  Long- 
fellow wrote  about  in  his  '  Skeleton  in  Armor,' 
isn't  it,  sir  ?  " 

"  The  very  same,"  said  the  Colonel ;  "  but, 


3IO  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

I  believe,  Fred,  that  it  has  been  pretty  well 
proved,  from  old  papers,  that  it  had  no  siicli 
romantic  beginning,  but  was  really  and  truly 
a  windmill." 

"  Tell  me  about  the  skeleton,  Fred,"  said 
Maggie. 

So  Fred  told  how  a  skeleton  in  armor,  hav- 
ing been  found  in  a  place  called  Fall  River, 
some  miles  from  Newport,  the  poet,  Longfel- 
low, had  written  a  ballad  about  it ;  telling 
how  a  viking,  or  Norwegian  sailor  of  the 
olden  time,  had  fallen  in  love  with  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  prince,  who  refused  to  give  his  child 
to  the  roving  sailor ;  but  they  had  run  away 
together,  and  crossing  the  sea  had  come  to 
this  spot,  where  the  viking  had  built  this 
tower  for  his  wife  to  live  in. 

"  Here  for  my  lady's  bower 
Built  I  the  lofty  tower, 
Which  to  this  very  hour 
Stands  looking  seaward/* 

chanted  Fred,  stretching  out  his  hand  with  a 
magnificent  air  towards  the  old  tower. 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness*  311 

"  That's  nice,"  said  Maggie,  with  a  satisfied 
nod  of  her  curly  head.  ''  I  shall  just  believe 
that.  It's  a  great  deal  nicer  than  to  think  it 
was  just  a  common  old  windmill  for  grinding 
up  corn." 

"  I  shan't,"  said  matter-of-fact  Bessie,  "  not 
when  Uncle  Horace  says  it's  not  true." 

"  I  don't  see  that  any  one  can  be  very  sure 
what  it  was,"  said  Maggie,  determined  to  have 
faith  in  the  most  romantic  story,  "  and  I  shall 
make  up  my  mind  it  was  the  lady's  bower. 
But  what  about  the  skeleton,  Fred  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Longfellow  goes  on  to  say  how 
the  lady  died,  and  her  husband  could  not 
bear  to  live  without  her  ;  so  he  went  out  into 
the  woods  and  killed  himself,  and  the  skele- 
ton in  armor  which  was  really  found  is  sup- 
posed to  be  his." 

"  He  oughtn't  to  kill  hisse'f.  He  ought  to 
wait  till  Dod  killed  him,"  said  Frankie,  who 
had  been  listening  with  great  interest  to  the 
story.  "  He  could  play  with  all  these  nice 
chillen,  if  he'd  'haved  hisself." 


312  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie,  who  had  received  tho 
story  with  as  much  displeasure  as  she  had 
done  that  of  the  "  Chiefs  Head,"  last  summer, 
at  Chalecoo,  "  if  God  chooses  people  to  stay 
here,  they  ought  to  do  it,  even  if  they  are  hav- 
ing very  hard  times." 

''So  they  ought,  Bess,"  said  Fred;  "but  I 
guess  those  old  vikings  did  not  care  much 
about  playing  with  children.  They  were  very 
brave,  daring  fellows." 

"  People  can  be  brave  and  like  children," 
said  Bessie,  slipping  her  little  hand  into  that 
of  lier  own  hero.  "  Uncle  Horace  likes  chil- 
dren and  plays  with  them,  and  no  one  could 
be  braver  than  he  is.  And  besides,  Fred, 
if  people  have  very  good  courage,  I  should 
think  they  would  be  brave  to  bear  the  trouble 
God  sends  them,  and  not  go  kill  themselves 
out  of  it." 

"  Well  reasoned,  little  one,"  said  the  Colo- 
nel, bending  his  tall  head  to  kiss  her ;  "  that 
man  is  certainly  a  coward  who  cannot  bear 
what  God  sends  to  him,  but  takes  the  life  his 
Maker  has  given." 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  313 

"  And  I  shall  think  it  is  a  windmill,"  said 
Bessie,  quite  as  resolved  to  stick  to  facts  as 
Maggie  was  to  believe  the  poet's  story. 

"  And  I  shall  think  it  the  viking's  tower, 
and  write  a  story-book  about  it  when  I'm 
grown  up,"  said  Maggie.  ''I'll  put  it  down 
for  a  subject." 

If  Maggie  lives  to  write  a  book  on  each 
"  subject "  she  has  put  down  for  that  purpose, 
she  will  be  very  old  indeed. 

Bessie  said  no  more ;  for  if  she  and  Mag- 
gie differed  on  something  which  was  not  im- 
portant, she  never  argued  about  it,  and  this 
was  probably  one  reason  why  they  never  quar- 
relled ;  for  each  was  content  to  let  the  other 
be  of  her  own  way  of  thinking,  so  long  as  it 
did  no  harm.  If  we  could  all  learn  that  les- 
son it  would  save  many  hard  words  and 
thoughts,  and  the  trouble  which  arises  from 
such. 

They  all  now  went  back  to  the  carriage, 
which  they  had  left  for  a  closer  view  of  the 
old  mill,  and  drove  on  to  what  is  called  the 


314  Bessie  on  her  Travels* 

Point,  and  around  the  north-western  side  of 
the  island,  from  which  road  they  gained  a 
beautiful  view  of  the  harbor  and  bay. 

"  What  is  that  over  there,  Uncle  Horace  ?  " 
asked  Fred,  "  it  looks  like  an  old  fort." 

"  Just  what  it  is,  my  boy,"  replied  Colo- 
nel Rush.  "  That  point  is  called  the  '  Dump- 
ling Eocks,'  and  that  ruin  is  old  Fort  Lewiss 
or  Fort  Dumpling." 

"  What  a  funny  name,"  said  Maggie. 

They  now  crossed  the  long  stone  causeway 
which  leads  to  Coaster's  Harbor  Island ;  and, 
as  they  went  over  this,  the  children  were  all 
greatly  delighted  with  the  number  of  pretty 
little  birds  which  went  whirling  round  them 
on  every  side,  darting  almost  under  the  horses' 
feet,  and  in  their  very  faces ;  passing  round 
and  round,  above  and  beneath  the  carriage. 
They  were  sand-martins,  the  Colonel  said,  and 
being  disturbed  by  the  rolling  of  the  wheels, 
were  probably  trying  to  draw  attention  from 
their  nests,  which  were  built  in  the  crevices 
of  the  stones  that  formed  the  causeway. 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  315 

On  this  island  stood  the  poor-house  which 
they  had  come  to  visit ;  and  here  another 
carriage,  containing  several  of  the  elders  of 
the  party,  had  arrived  before  them.  Papa 
was  there  and  took  the  little  girls  out  of  the 
carriage  when  it  stopped. 

"  What  a  nice  place  for  the  poor  people  to 
be  in,  when  they  don't  have  any  house  of  their 
own  !  "  said  Bessie  :  "  I  s'pose  they're  very 
grateful  for  it." 

"  Well,  I  dont  know  about  that,"  said  Mag- 
gie. "I  find  poor  people  in  this  world  are 
not  always  grateful  when  they  ought  to  be. 
Don't  you  remember  Mrs.  Bent,  Bessie  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Bessie,  in  a  tone  which 
told  that  Mrs.  Bent's  ingratitude,  as  she  and 
Maggie  thought  it,  was  not  to  be  easily  for- 
gotten. Indeed,  the  way  in  which  Mrs.  Bent 
had  received  the  gift  of  the  hospital-bed  for 
her  lame  boy,  had  left  a  very  disagreeable 
impression  on  the  minds  of  our  two  little 
girls. 

"  But  I  s'pose  rich  people  are  not  always  so 


3i6  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

grateful  as  they  ought  to  be,  either,"  added 
Bessie. 

''  No,"  said  Maggie,  thoughtfully  :  "  maybe 
some  are  not,  but  I  think  we  are,  generally. 
I  think  I  feel  my  blessings,  Bessie,  —  I  think  I 
do,  'specially  being  in  Newport." 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  that,"  said 
Uncle  Ruthven,  who  had  overheard  this  short 
conversation,  to  his  wife :  "  if  ever  there  was 
a  grateful,  contented,  little  heart  it  is  that  of 
our  sunny  Maggie." 

Certainly  a  more  comfortable  home,  or  one 
more  beautifully  situated,  could  scarcely  have 
been  found  for  those  who  could  furnish  none 
for  themselves.  The  grown  people,  as  well  as 
the  children,  were  greatly  pleased  with  the 
order,  neatness,  and  quiet  of  the  whole  place. 
This  visit  having  been  planned,  the  ladies  had 
come  provided  with  little  parcels  of  tea,  fruit, 
and  other  small  delicacies,  as  a  treat  for  some 
of  the  sick  and  old  people.  There  were  a  few 
toys  and  books  also  for  such  of  the  children 
as  had  behaved  well,  and  these  things  Maggie 
and  Bessie  were  allowed  to  present. 


X ittle  A cts  of  Kin dn ess.  317 

"  I  b'lieve  I'll  change  my  mind  about  poor 
people  being  grateful,"  said  Maggie,  when 
she  had  witnessed  the  pleasure  these  trifles 
gave ;  "  and  I'm  glad  I  can,  for  an  ungrateful 
person  is  '  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth,' 
'specially  if  it's  an  old  woman." 

Bessie  looked  at  her  sister  in  great  admira- 
tion, as  she  always  did  when  Maggie  made 
any  of  these  fine  speeches ;  but  Harry  turned 
away  lest  she  should  see  him  laughing.  For 
as  Maggie  was  so  careful  of  other  people's 
feelings,  Harry  felt  bound  not  to  trouble  her 
hi  that  way  when  he  could  avoid  it. 

"  The  band  plays  at  Fort  Adams  to-morrow 
afternoon,"  said  the  Colonel,  as  they  drove 
homeward :  "  who  will  be  for  a  drive  over 
there  ?  " 

There  was  no  want  of  assenting  voices ; 
and,  the  next  afternoon,  the  whole  family  went 
over  to  the  fort, —  some  driving,  some  on  horse- 
back, Mr.  Powers  and  Belle  being  of  the  party 
this  time. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  had  never  ui  their  lives 


3i8  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

been  inside  of  a  fort,  so  that  this  was  quite  an 
event  to  them.  Harry  and  Fred  had  visited 
several ;  but  they  were  all  much  smaller  than 
Fort  Adams,  which  indeed  is  the  second  in 
size  in  the  country,  only  Fortress  Monroe 
being  larger.  Passing  around  the  road,  which 
runs  between  the  water  and  the  immense 
earthworks  which  rise  above  it,  they  entered 
the  fort  beneath  a  stone  arch,  and  over  a 
stone  pavement  on  which  the  horses'  feet  rang 
with  a  loud  clatter.  Just  without  this  gate- 
way, was  the  guard-house,  a  low  stone  building, 
with  grated  door  and  loop-holes,  where  drunken 
soldiers,  and  those  who  have  broken  the  rules, 
are  confined.  Two  or  three  sullen-looking 
men  were  peeping  through  the  iron  bars  of 
the  door,  for  whom  Bessie's  tender  little  heart 
was  much  moved ;  but  Maggie  was  afraid  of 
them,  and  turned  her  face  away,  though  they 
could  not  possibly  have  hurt  her,  and  probably 
had  no  will  to  do  so. 

Within  the  fort,  the  children  were  much 
astonished  at   the  number  of  enormous  can- 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  319 

non,  and  at  the  great  black  balls  and  shells 
piled  together  m  pyramids  upon  the  green  in 
the  centre,  and  beneath  the  casemates.  The 
side  of  the  fort  next  the  water  was  entirely 
taken  up  with  these  warlike-looking  arrange- 
ments ;  while  on  the  inner  side  were  the 
officers'  quarters,  or  little  houses  where  they 
lived,  and  the  soldiers'  barracks  and  mess- 
rooms.  All  was  neat,  clean,  and  orderly ; 
and,  in  spite  of  the  purpose  for  which  it  was 
intended,  the  whole  place  had  a  bright,  cheer- 
ful look.  The  band  were  playing  delightful 
music  on  the  green,  and  the  drive  was  filled 
with  gay  equipages.  The  handsome  carriages, 
fine  horses,  and  beautifully  dressed  ladies  and 
children,  made  it  a  pretty  and  lively  scene, 
and  it  was  all  so  new  to  the  children,  that 
each  moment  some  exclamation  of  pleasure  or 
wonder  escaped  them.  Some  of  the  officers 
were  sauntering  about,  talking  to  their  ac- 
quaintances ;  and  the  general  who  commanded 
the  fort,  being  a  friend  of  Colonel  Rush,  came 
and  asked  the  ladies  and  children  to  alight 


320  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

from  the  carriages,  and  he  would  show  them 
over  the  works.  They  were  glad  to  accept 
his  invitation,  and  the  general  took  them  over 
the  fort,  and  explained  all  that  was  interest- 
ing. 

But  in  spite  of  the  many  new  and  curious 
things  she  saw,  in  spite  of  the  lovely  music, 
and  the  merry  crowd,  Bessie's  mind  was  full 
of  the  "  poor,  naughty  soldiers  in  the  prison ;  '^ 
and  when  her  older  friends  were  resting  in  the 
general's  quarters,  while  she  with  the  other 
children  stayed  without  and  watched  the  gay 
scene,  she  went  quietly  to  Belle  and  said,  — 

"  Belle,  dear,  don't  you  feel  rather  bad 
about  those  soldiers  shut  up  in  that  prison 
place  ? " 

"  Not  when  I  don't  see  'em,"  answered 
Belle.  ''  I  guess  they  were  pretty  naughty  to 
be  put  in  there." 

''  May  be  so,"  said  Bessie  ;  "  but  wouldn't 
you  like  to  be  kind  to  them  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Belle.  "  I  b'lieve  not.  One  of 
them  looked  so  cross." 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness.  321 

"  Maybe  it  makes  him  cross  to  be  shut  up 
there  when  the  music  is  playing,  and  every 
thhig  is  so  nice  out  here,"  said  Bessie.  "  Let's 
go  and  ask  them  if  they  will  promise  to  bo 
good  if  they  are  let  out." 

"  We  can't  let  them  out,"  said  Belle. 

"  No  ;  but  we'll  tell  some  one  they  have  re- 
pented and  ask  for  them  to  be  let  out.  You 
know  that  soldier  with  a  gun,  that  was  walk- 
ing up  and  down  there  ?  well,  I  guess  he's  a 
kind  of  soldier-policeman  and  we'll  ask  him. 
The  prison  is  just  outside  of  that  gate-hole," 
said  Bessie,  pointing  to  the  archway  by  which 
the  fort  was  entered ;  ''  and  we  will  be  back 
in  a  moment." 

"  Shall  we  ask  Maggie  to  go  ?  "  said  Belle. 

"  No,  'cause  Maggie  was  so  frightened  at 
them.  She  is  over  there  with  Harry,  looking 
at  those  ugly  black  balls ;  so  we  won't  'sturb 
her,  but  just  go  by  ourselves." 

So,  hand  in  hand,  the  two  little  things  ran 
out  under  the  archway,  and  over  to  the  guard- 
house beyond.  Not  unnoticed,  however  ;  for 
21 


322  Bessie  on  her  T?'avels, 

though  they  were  not  seen  by  their  own 
friends,  they  were  by  some  acquaintances, 
who  were  driving  past  at  the  moment,  and 
who,  fearing  that  they  might  be  run  over  by 
the  constantly  passing  carriages,  or  fall  into 
some  other  mischief,  told  Colonel  Rush's 
servants  to  see  after  the  children.  One  of 
the  men  called  his  master,  and  the  Colonel 
speedily  followed  the  little  runaways. 

They  made  for  the  grated  door,  mth  what 
purpose  Bessie  hardly  knew  herself,  save  that 
there  was  kindness  in  her  heart  for  the  poor 
prisoners ;  but,  as  they  reached  it,  the  guard 
or  "  soldier-policeman,"  as  Bessie  called  him, 
stopped  them  by  crossing  his  musket  in  their 
way. 

Belle  was  frightened,  —  partly  by  this,  part- 
ly by  the  two  or  three  astonished  faces-  that 
peeped  at  them  through  the  bars,  —  and  would 
have  drawn  back,  but  Bessie  stood  her  ground, 
and,  looking  up  at  the  guard  with  her  inno- 
cent, serious  eyes,  said, — 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  323 

"  We  only  want  to  speak  to  the  poor  sliut- 
up  soldiers." 

The  man  shook  his  head. 

"  It's  against  the  rules,  miss,"  he  said. 

"  But  I'm  not  in  rules,"  said  Bessie.  "  1 
don't  live  here  you  know,  and  I  think  I  might 
do  it.  If  you  were  in  prison  you  would  like 
some  one  to  coax  you  to  be  good :  wouldn't 
you  ? " 

The  soldier  looked  at  her  in  astonished 
silence  ;  but  his  gun  still  barred  the  way. 

"  You'll  let  them  out,  won't  you  ?  "  she  went 
on  with  pleading  voice  and  eyes :  "  youll  let 
them  out  so  they  can  come  in  there  where 
there  is  such  sweet  music,  and  it  is  all  nice 
and  bright  ?     I  think  they  are  sorry  now." 

"  Yes,"  said  Belle  :  ''  see  that  poor  fellow 
sitting  on  the  floor  with  his  head  down.  I'm 
sure  he  is  sorry,  and  will  be  good,  and  the 
ofers  will  too." 

While  the  little  girls  were  speaking,  two 
more  soldiers  had  come  round  from  the  other 
side  of  the  guard-house.     One   of  them  was 


324  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

the  corporal ;  and,  hearing  what  the  cliildren 
said,  he  answered  for  the  sentry. 

"  He  can't  let  them  out,  little  ladies,"  ho 
said  :  "  if  he  did  he'd  be  put  there  himself." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  Colonel  Rush  stood 
behind  the  children.  The  corporal  and  the 
soldiers,  even  the  men  behind  the  grating, 
saluted  the  brave  English  officer,  whom  they 
knew  by  sight,  and  whom  they  greatly  ad- 
mired ;  for  the  story  of  his  daring  and  cour- 
age were  known  to  the  garrison.  But  the 
third  man,  who  was  hardly  more  than  a  lad, 
still  sat  with  his  arms  folded,  and  his  head 
sunk  upon  his  breast. 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  this 
is  no  place  for  you.  What  brought  you 
here  ? " 

"  Oh !  Uncle  Horace,"  said  Bessie,  seizing 
upon  his  hand  ;  "  won't  you  ask  these  police- 
men-soldiers to  let  out  those  poor  prisoners  ? 
We  feel  so  badly  about  them." 

"  My  darling,"  answered  the  Colonel,  '•  they 
cannot  let  out  these  men.     They  are  under 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness.  325 

arrest,  and  shut  up  here  because  they  have 
done  wrong,  and  the  guard  are  here  to  keep 
them  from  getting  out." 

"  But  see  that  poor  soldier  sitting  down 
there,"  said  Bessie  :  "  he  looks  so  sorry.  May- 
be, he's  thinking  of  somebody  of  his,  far 
away,  who  will  hear  he  has  been  in  prison, 
and  feel  badly  about  it." 

In  her  earnestness,  she  was  using  every 
argument  she  could  think  of;  but  she  had 
innocently  touched  almost  the  only  soft  spot 
in  the  man's  heart.  If  he  was  not  at  the 
moment  thinking  of  "  somebody  of  his  "  who 
was  far  away,  her  words  brought  the  thought 
of  that  one  to  his  mind,  —  that  "  somebody," 
his  poor  young  sister,  who  would  be  grieved 
at  his  disgrace,  hurt  at  his  obstinate  wrong- 
doing, if  it  ever  came  to  her  ears. 

He  raised  his  head,  and  gave  a  quick  glance 
at  the  innocent  little  pleader ;  and  a  softened 
look  came  over  the  hard,  sullen  face. 

"  He's  not  sorry,  but  just  sullen,  little 
lady,"   said  the   corporal :   ''  that   fellow  has 


326  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

been  in  the  guard-house  four  times  in  the  last 
week,  for  insubordination,  and  they'll  have  to 
try  some  harder  measures  to  take  it  out  of 
liim,  I'm  thinking.     Your  pity  is  only  wasted." 

"Oh,  no  !  "  said  Bessie  ;  "  for  you  know 
Jesus  said  we  must  be  sorry  with  people  when 
they  are  in  trouble,  and  happy  with  them 
when  they  are  glad.  I'm  very  sorry  for  him 
and  the  other  men  too.  Who  can  let  them 
out,  Uncle  Horace  ?  " 

"  Only  their  officers,  Bessie ;  and  I  fear  they 
must  stay  here  now  till  their  time  is  up  :  but 
we  will  hope  they  will  do  better  in  future,  and 
not  deserve  punishment  again.  Come  away 
now  :    your  mother  will  be  anxious." 

Bessie  obeyed ;  but  both  she  and  Belle  cast 
backward  pitying  looks  at  the  poor  prisoners. 
The  man  they  had  noticed  most,  still  sat 
silent;  but  the  other  two,  as  well  as  the 
soldiers  without,  talked  with  pleasure  and 
amusement  of  their  pretty  ways  and  innocent 
simplicity. 

But  the  man  who  had  seemed  to  pay  little 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  327 

or  no  regard  to  tlieir  words  was  the  one  who 
remembered  them  the  longest,  and  to  whom 
they  brought  the  most  good.  He  had  been 
hard,  obstmate,  and  disobedient,  and,  as  the 
corporal  said,  had  been  punished  four  times 
during  the  last  week.  Punishment  and  per- 
suasion had  alike  proved  useless  in  bringing 
him  to  do  better;  but  he  was  softened  now. 
He  could  not  resist  that  sweet  little  face,  the 
pitying  eyes  and  gentle  tones  that  asked  for 
his  release.  He  thought  of  them,  and  of  that 
"  somebody  of  his,"  all  that  night  as  he  lay 
upon  the  hard  floor  of  the  guard-house ;  and, 
when  he  was  set  free  in  the  morning,  went  to 
his  commanding  officer  whom  he  had  dis- 
obeyed and  insulted ;  asked  forgiveness,  and 
promised  that  he  would  try  not  to  offend  again. 
And  he  kept  his  word,  striving  hard  with  him- 
self for  he  always  felt,  from  this  time,  as  if 
there  were  two  "  somebodies  "  who  would  be 
grieved  to  hear  of  his  bad  behavior  and  dis- 
grace. 

"  Who  could  let  them  out,  Uncle  Horace  1 " 


328  Bessie  011  her  T?'avcls. 

repeated  Bessie  as  the  Colonel  led  her  and 
Belle  away. 

"  Only  the  officer  who  ordered  them  to  be 
slmt  up,  dear,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  And  couldn't  we  ask  him  ? "  said  Bes- 
sie. 

"  Not  very  well,  dear :  the  rules  in  the 
army  must  be  strictly  kept ;  and  if  these  men 
were  let  out  without  good  reason,  it  would  be  a 
bad  example  for  the  other  soldiers,  who  might 
think  they  would  not  be  punished  if  they  were 
disobedient." 

"  But  what  had  that  man  on  the  floor  been 
doing  ?  "  asked  Belle. 

"  I  do  not  know,  dear.  Misbehaving  in 
some  way  which  deserved  punishment." 

"  The  soldier-policeman  said  he  had  been 
shut  up  four  times  for — for — in — su — such 
a  long  word  I  can't  remember  it.  Uncle  Hor- 
ace, and  I  didn't  know  what  it  meant,"  said 
Bessie. 

"  Insurbordination  ?  "  said  the  Colonel, 

"  Yes,  sir :  what  does  it  mean  ?  " 


Little  Acts  of  Kindness,  3-39 

"  Disobeying  orders,  or  being  impertinent, 
and  so  forth,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  And  we'd  better  not  ask  the  General  to 
let  them  come  out  of  that  dark  house  ?  "  said 
Belle. 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  said  the  Colonel.  ''  They 
would  not  have  been  shut  up  if  it  had  not  been 
necessary,  and  we  had  better  let  the  matter 
rest.     We  can  do  no  good  by  interfering." 

So  thought  the  Colonel,  believing  and  know- 
ing that  discipline  must  be  sternly  kept  up ; 
knowing  nothing  the  while  of  the  good  which 
had  already  been  done,  —  of  the  tiny  seed  un- 
consciously dropped  upon  the  hard  and  stony 
ground  of  an  obstinate  heart,  but  which  had 
brought  "  forth  fruit  meet  for  repentance." 

This  was  by  no  means  Bessie's  last  visit  to 
Fort  Adams ;  but  she  never  saw  the  prisoner 
soldiers  again,  at  least  she  did  not  recognize 
them  ;  but  they  saw  and  knew  her,  the  inno- 
cent little  fairy,  so  she  seemed  to  these  rough 
men,  who  had  stood  outside  the  prison  bars, 
pleading  so  pityingly  for  their  release. 


XIY. 

WATER-LILIES. 

NE  great  object  of  delight  and  interest 
to   the   children   was  the   immense 
'  number   of  robins   around  Newport. 

These  pretty,  saucy,  little  birds  were  constant- 
ly to  be  seen  hopping  about  the  soft,  velvety 
lawns  for  which  this  place  is  famous  ;  picking 
up  whatever  crumbs  fell  in  their  way,  or  such 
unwary  worms  and  caterpillars  as  had  ventured 
forth  for  air  and  exercise ;  swinging  on  the 
branches  of  the  trees,  or  perched  with  an  in- 
dependent, look-at-me  sort  of  an  air,  upon  the 
fences  and  railings  ;  shaking  down  showers  of 
diamond  dew-drops  from  slender  sprays,  in 
the  early  morning ;  charming  all  ears  with 
their  sweet  notes ;  welcome  guests  whenever 
and  wherever  they  came. 


Water-Lilies.  331 

The  first  thing  done  by  the  children  after 
breakfast,  was  each  morning  to  beg  for  crumbs 
and  bits  of  bread  to  feed  the  robins,  who  would 
come  hopping  close  to  the  piazza  to  receive 
the  welcome  gift.  Even  Baby  Annie  must 
throw  out  her  share,  and  would  hold  up  her 
tiny  little  finger  to  keep  off  any  one  who,  she 
feared,  would  disturb  the  birds,  saying, — 

"  Ss,  ss,  badie  fy,"  which  meant,  "  Hush, 
hush,  birdie  fly." 

Then  there  was  the  bathing  in  the  sea,  now 
as  formerly,  such  a  source  of  pleasure  to  Bes- 
sie. Maggie,  too,  enjoyed  it,  for  she  had  lost 
all  fear  of  the  waves  while  she  was  at  Quam 
Beach.  It  afforded  endless  amusement,  too, 
to  Maggie,  to  see  the  droll  figures  presented 
by  the  bathers  when  they  were  dressed  for 
their  dip  in  the  sea.  Her  merry,  ringing  laugh 
provoked  smiles  not  only  from  lookers-on,  but 
from  the  very  wearers  themselves  ;  for  there 
was  no  rudeness  or  unkindness  in  that  laugh, 
and  she  was  quite  as  much  diverted  at  her 
own  appearance  as  she  was  at  that  of  others. 


2^2  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

From  nine  to  twelve,  the  beach  was  gener- 
ally crowded  with  bathers  ;  some  coming  from 
the  water,  others  going  from  the  line  of  bath- 
ing-houses towards  it ;  others  still,  in  every 
color  and  style  of  dress,  bobbing  up  and  down 
in  the  waves.  There  were  carriages  driving 
back  and  forth  over  the  yielding  sand  ;  many 
walkers,  too,  —  people  who  came  only  to  look 
at  the  bathers,  or  who  were  moving  about  after 
their  own  bath.  The  beach  was  a  merry, 
lively  place,  where  there  was  never  a  lack  of 
"  something  to  do  ;  "  for  the  children  always 
brought  their  little  pails  and  shovels  with 
them,  and  when  their  frolic  in  the  water  was 
over,  they  would  dig  in  the  sand,  or  pick  up 
small  shells  Sometimes  they  would  watch 
the  clam-fishers  turning  over  the  sea-weed  with 
their  long-pronged  instruments,  or  sail  bits  of 
Avood  and  light  scallop-shells  down  the  pretty, 
shallow  stream  of  fresh  water  ;  which,  running 
from  the  pond  beyond,  and  crossing  the  beach 
near  its  upper  end,  mingles  its  pure  waters 
with  the  salt  waves  of  the  sea. 


Water-Lilies,  '}>7i7i 

There  was  a  story  connected  with  this  beach, 
told  by  Mr.  Bradford  to  his  children,  —  a  story 
strange  and  romantic  enongh  to  satisfy  even 
Maggie's  love  of  the  marvellous,  yet  perfectly 
true. 

One  fine,  bright  morning,  more  than  a  hun- 
dred years  ago,  a  vessel  was  seen  coming  down 
directly  towards  the  beach,  where  no  vessel 
had  ever  been  known  to  venture  before.  Her 
sails  were  all  set,  her  colors  flying ;  and  the 
alarmed  spectators  watched  her  with  the  most 
painful  interest,  expecting  each  instant  to  see 
her  dashed  to  pieces  upon  the  rocks.  But  no : 
on  she  came  safely ;  past  craggy  points  and 
over  hidden  reefs,  and  struck  her  keel  into 
the  soft  sand  of  the  beach.  No  person  was 
seen  on  board  ;  and,  when  the  anxious  towns- 
people reached  her  decks,  the  only  living  crea- 
ture there  was  a  dog.  A  cat  was  found  in  the 
cabin,  where  coffee  was  boiling,  and  other 
preparations  made  for  breakfast ;  but  not  a 
sailor  was  to  be  seen.  What  became  of  her 
crew  was  never  known  :  but  it  was  supposed, 


334  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

that,  finding  themselves  too  near  the  rocks, 
they  took  to  the  life-boat,  which  was  missing, 
and  were  lost ;  while  the  vessel  came  safely  to 
land,  without  hand  or  eye  to  guide  her. 

Beyond  this  beach,  a  most  lovely  drive,  with 
the  ocean  in  view  all  the  way,  leads  to  Purga- 
tory and  Paradise.  The  former  is  a  great 
gulf  or  chasm  in  the  solid  rock  of  the  point  or 
bluff  which  separates  the  first  from  the  second 
beach ;  a  dark,  gloomy-looking  place,  from 
which  Maggie,  Bessie,  and  Belle  drew  back  in 
alarm,  without  the  least  desire  to  look  down. 
Neither  did  they  like  to  hear  the  stones  which 
the  boys  threw  into  the  cleft,  and  which  went 
bounding  with  a  dull  sound,  from  side  to  side, 
till  they  plunged  sullenly  into  the  dark  waters 
below. 

Reckless  Fred  ventured  too  near  the  edge, 
where  a  slip  upon  the  short  grass,  or  a  stray 
pebble  would  have  sent  him  down  into  the 
dark  abyss.  The  Colonel  drew  him  back  with 
no  gentle  hand,  and  a  sharp  reprimand,  all  of 
which  made  the  little  girls  still  more  ready  to 
seek  a  pleasanter  spot. 


Water-Lilies,  335 

"  For,"  said  Maggie,  in  a  tone  of  great  wis- 
dom, "  I  don't  think  it  is  at  all  prudent  to  come 
into  places  where  one  can  be  killed  with  such 
felicity." 

Maggie  meant  facility. 

Paradise,  as  might  be  supposed,  proved  much 
more  attractive.  This  is  a  succession  of  love- 
ly groves  and  mossy  glades  lying  below  and 
on  the  sides  of  a  rocky  hill,  and  as  great  a 
contrast  as  can  be  imagined  to  its  neighbor, 
Purgatory. 

But  the  place  which  the  children  loved  the 
best,  and  where  they  spent  the  most  of  thei- 
time,  was  the  lovely  little  beach  lying  just  be- 
low the  bluff  on  which  stood  Colonel  Rush's 
house.  Here,  too,  they  often  bathed,  instead 
of  driving  over  to  the  larger  and  more  fre- 
quented beach  ;  and  here  they  might  be  found 
at  almost  everj  hour  of  the  day.  Here  Bessie 
would  sit,  forgetting  her  play,  as  she  watclied 
the  blue  billows  with  their  crests  of  white  foam, 
rcUing  up  one  after  the  other  on  the  smooth 
sands,  and  listening  to  the  chiming  sound  of 


33^  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

the  waves,  the  grand  music  of  old  ocean  sound- 
ing ceaselessly,  and  speaking  to  all  hearts,  that 
will  hear,  of  the  power  and  goodness  of  the 
Almighty  liand  which  holds  it  in  its  place. 

Even  in  bad  weather,  when  she  could  not  go 
out,  the  sea  afforded  endless  pleasure  to  Bes- 
sie ;  for  she  could  sit  at  the  window  watching 
it,  as  the  waves,  lashed  into  fury  by  the  wind, 
rushed  foaming  and  dashing  over  the  rocks 
and  reefs,  and  sometimes  even  flung  their 
spray  above  the  edge  of  the  cliff  on  which  the 
house  stood. 

And  sitting  here  one  day,  looking  out  from 
her  perch  over  the  stormy  waters,  the  leaping 
waves,  and  foam-covered  rocks,  she  was  the 
first  to  observe,  and  call  all  the  family  to  see 
a  spectacle  which  they  had  long  desired  to 
witness. 

This  was  the  famous  Spouting  Rock  in  full 
play. 

At  a  little  distance  from  Colonel  Rush's 
house  was  a  ledge  of  rocks,  the  under  side  of 
which  has  been  worn  into  deep  caverns  by  the 


Water-Lilies,  337 

constant  fretting  of  the  waves.  One  of  them 
has  an  open  shaft,  or  sort  of  natural  chimney, 
which  ends  on  the  surface  of  the  rock.  In 
stormy  weather,  when  the  wind  has  blown  for 
some  time  in  a  particular  direction,  the  sea 
rushes  with  great  power  into  these  caverns, 
and  forces  itself  up  througli  the  spout  or  chim- 
ney, often  to  a  great  height.  But  this  does 
not  happen  very  often,  and  one  may  spend 
months,  perhaps  years,  at  Newport,  without 
ever  seeing  it. 

All  of  Mr.  Bradford's  children,  and  indeed 
the  grown  people  of  the  party  as  well,  had 
been  very  anxious  to  see  this  singular  sight ; 
and  when  Bessie,  sitting  by  the  window,  and 
looking  over  towards  these  rocks,  saw  a  jet  of 
water  forcing  itself  above  them,  she  knew  at 
once  what  it  was,  and  called  out  eagerly,  — 

"  Oh,  the  horn  is  horning !  it  is  really  horn- 
ing ;  come  and  see,  everybody." 

The  horn  spouted  all  that  day,  and  the  chil- 
dren never  tired  of  looking  at  it ;  and  Frankie, 
when  he  was  asked  if  he  knew  what  it  was, 
answered,  —  22 


338  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"I  dess  it  is  Dod's  fountain,"  than  which 
no  answer  could  have  been  truer. 

Not  very  far  from  Colonel  Rush's  house,  lay 
a  calm,  lovely  lake,  called  Lily  Pond,  separated 
from  the  ocean  only  by  a  .narrow  belt  of  land, 
and  making  a  striking  contrast  to  the  rolling 
billows  of  the  ocean  so  near. 

As  may  be  supposed,  the  lake  is  named  from 
the  number  of  water-lilies  with  which  it  is  cov- 
ered during  the  season  when  these  exquisite 
flowers  are  in  bloom.  They  fill  the  air  with 
their  delicious  fragrance ;  and  the  delicate, 
pearly,  white  blossoms  are  seen  by  all  the  pass- 
ers-by, resting  among  their  green  leaves  on 
the  surface  of  the  water. 

Bessie's  mother,  and  Bessie  herself,  were 
both  extremely  fond  of  these  lovely  flowers  ; 
and  when  Harry  came  in  one  day  with  two 
which  he  had  fished  up  from  their  watery  bed 
with  some  trouble  to  himself,  great  was  the 
rejoicing  over  them. 

The  next  afternoon,  Maggie  and  Bessie  were 
out  driving  with  Mrs.  Rush  and  Aunt  Bessie, 


Water-Lilies, 


339 


when  they  came  upon  a  boy  and  girl,  perched 
upon  a  fence  at  the  side  of  the  road,  and  hav- 
ing a  basket  half-filled  with  water-lilies. 

"  Water-lilies  !  oh,  water-lilies  !  "  cried  Bes- 
sie ;  "  where  did  they  gather  so  many  I  wonder. 
Could  we  find  some  for  dear  mamma,  do  you 
think,  Aunt  May  ?  " 

"  I  think  those  children  have  them  for  sale: 
we  can  buy  some  from  them,"  said  Mrs.  Rush; 
and  she  ordered  the  coachman  to  stop. 

"  But  we  have  left  all  our  money  at  home," 
said  Maggie,  in  a  tone  of  regret. 

•*  Well,  I  will  buy  them,  and  you  may  give 
them  to  mamma,"  said  Mrs  Rush. 

*'  But  that  is  not  at  all  the  same.  Aunt  May," 
said  Bessie :  "  it  would  only  be  pretend  our 
present." 

''  Suppose  I  lend  you  the  money.  You  may 
give  it  back  to  me  if  you  like,  as  soon  as  you 
go  home." 

So  Maggie  and  Bessie  each  bought  a  bunch 
of  water-lilies  from  the  boy  and  girl,  who  had 
come  down  from  the  fence  and  now  stood  be- 


340  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

side  llie  carriage,  and  Aunt  May  purchased  the 
rest,  leaving  the  basket  empty. 
'  The  girl  tossed  her  basket  above  her  head, 
and,  after  thanking  the  ladies,  bounded  across 
the  road  and  over  the  fence  on  the  other  side, 
making  for  Lily  Pond  as  if  she  were  after  a 
fresh  supply.     The  boy  followed  more  slowly. 

"  I  wonder  why  they  sell  lilies,"  said  Mag- 
gie :  "  they  do  not  look  so  very  poor.  At  least 
they're  not  ragged  and  dirty,  though  the  girl 
has  a  pretty  ugly  frock." 

"  If  I  was  poor  and  had  to  make  some 
money,  I  would  choose  to  be  a  water-lily  girl,'' 
said  Bessie  ;  "  and  I  would  try  to  be  so  polite, 
and  ask  so  nicely,  that  people  would  like  to 
buy  of  me." 

"  I  do  not  think  people  would  be  very  apt  to 
refuse  you,  my  lily  girl,"  said  Aunt  Bessie, 
with  a  loving  look  at  the  sweet  little  face  before 
her,  which  was  bent  over  the  lovely  white 
blossoms,  not  purer  than  itself. 

"  I  would  like  to  paddle  in  and  pick  the 
lilies/'  said  Maggie  ;  "  but  I  would  not  like 


Watcr-Lilies, 


341 


to  sit  on  top  of  a  fence,  waiting  for  people  to 
come  and  buy  my  flowers :  it  must  be  so 
stupid." 

"  The  boy  looks  as  if  he  were  better  able 
to  do  that  than  to  pick  the  lilies,"  said  Mrs. 
Rush.  ''  He  has  an  interesting,  thoughtful 
face,  but  looks  delicate." 

"  My  anxiety  is  all  upsidedown  about  him," 
said  Maggie.  "  Maybe  he  wants  money  to  pay 
a  doctor.  Bessie,  when  we  go  out  to  walk  to- 
morrow morning,  let's  ask  nurse  to  come  this 
way,  and  see  if  we  can  find  these  children. 
Maybe  we  could  help  them  a  little.  We  must 
have  a  whole  lot  of  charity  money,  for  you 
know  we  have  not  had  much  use  for  it  on  our 
travels." 

Accordingly,  the  next  morning  the  children 
waited  for  Belle ;  and,  as  soon  as  she  came, 
the  whole  flock  started  with  Mammy  and  Jane 
on  the  road  towards  Lily  Pond,  the  little  girls 
having  taken  care  to  be  provided  with  money. 
Tliey  found  the  iDoy  and  girl,  not  sitting  on  top 
of  the  fence  this  time,  but  near  the  lake  ;  the 


342  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

boy  lying  flat  upon  a  rock  with  a  book  in  his 
hand,  the  girl  sitting  beside  him,  busy  shelling 
pease. 

They  looked  up  as  our  party  drew  near,  and 
the  girl  said  with  a  pleased  look,  — 

"  Oh  !  it's  the  little  girls  who  bought  all  the 
lilies  yesterday." 

"  Yes,  it  is  us,"  said  Maggie.  "  Have  you 
more  to  sell  us  to-day  ?  We  meant  to  buy  a 
whole  lot,  and  have  brought  a  basket  in  baby's 
wagon." 

''  We  haven't  picked  any  to-day,"  said  the 
boy :  "we  don't  generally  gather  them  till 
later,  when  it's  time  for  the  gentle-folks  to  come 
riding  this  way  ;  but  we  can  get  some  for  you 
right  away.  In  a  few  days,  when  they're  more 
plenty,  there'll  be  lots  of  fellows  up  here  after 
them  ;  but  they  mostly  take  them  down  to  the 
beach  and  around  the  town  to  sell." 

"  We  have  a  little  pond  of  our  own,  where 
there  are  a  few,"  said  the  girl ;  "  but  we  get 
most  off  of  this  one." 

"  Wliere  do  you  live  ?  "  asked  Belle. 


Water-Lilies .  3  43 

"  Over  yonder,"  said  the  girl,  pointing  to 
a  small  farm-house  standing  among  its  out- 
huildings  on  the  other  side  of  the  road. 
*'  Now,  Johnny,  I'm  ready." 

Johnny  went  a  few  steps  off,  where  the  bushes 
grew  thickly,  and  drew  from  among  them  two 
long,  hooked  sticks.  One  of  tliese  he  gave  to 
the  girl,  and  kept  the  other  in  his  own  hand. 
"While  they  had  been  talking,  the  girl  had 
pulled  off  her  shoes  and  stockings ;  and  now, 
to  the  surprise  of  all  the  children,  she  waded 
into  the  water,  while  her  brother  stayed  upon 
the  rock,  without  offering  to  follow. 

Sallie,  so  he  called  her,  stepped  out  till  the 
water  toadied  her  knees  ;  and  having  gathered 
such  lilies  as  she  could  reach  with  her  hand, 
drew  others  towards  her  with  the  hooked  stick. 
The  long,  slender  stems  yielded  easily ;  and, 
as  she  plucked  one  after  another,  she  tossed 
them  towards  her  brother,  who  drew  them  in 
with  his  own  stick. 

How  lovely  and  delicious  they  were,  just 
fresh  from  their  watery  bed,  with  the  drops 


344  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

still  glittering  like  diamonds  on  the  rich, 
creamy- white  petals  !  how  they  filled  the  whole 
air  with  their  fragrance  ! 

"  1  think  if  I  could  carry  flowers  to  heaven, 
I  would  like  to  take  these,"  whispered  Bessie 
to  Maggie  and  Belle,  as  all  three  hung  de- 
lighted over  their  prize.  "  They  look  as  if 
they  were  very  large  stars  fallen  down  out  of 
God's  sky,  to  tell  us  how  SAveet  every  thing  is 
there." 

"  0  Bessie,  you  darling ! "  said  Maggie. 
"What  a  lovely  idea  !  That's  good  enougli  to 
put  in  a  book.  Bessie,  do  you  know  that  is 
talking  prose  ?  " 

"  What  is  prose  ?  "  asked  Belle. 

"  You  know  what  rhyme  is,"  said  Maggie. 

"  Yes,"  said  Belle :  "  it  means  cat  and 
hat,  and  mouse  and  house,  and  mean  and 
queen." 

"That's  right,"  said  Maggie.  "Well,  if 
you  say  a  nice  thing  in  rhyme,  that's  poetry ; 
but  if  you  say  it  in  unrhyme,  then  it's  prose." 

"  Oh ! "    said    Belle,    quite    satisfied   with 


Wdiiei'- Lilies,  345 

Maggie's  explanation.  '-'•  I  wish  1  were  as 
smart  as  you  t\YO.  You  write  poetry,  Mag- 
gie ;  and  Bessie  can  talk  prose  :  and  I  can't  do 
either." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Maggie,  consolingly. 
"  Maybe  you'll  be  able  to  some  day." 

"  And  you're  just  good  enough  for  us,  any 
way,"  said  Bessie,  with  an  affectionate  kiss  to 
her  little  friend ;  an  example  which  was  fol- 
lowed by  Maggie. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  in  the  water,  and  let 
your  sister  stay  out?"  said  Belle  to  Johnny, 
rather  reprovingly. 

Johnny,  who  was  a  gentle-looking  boy, 
colored  a  little,  but  answered  quietly,  — 

"  They  say  I  ought  not  to  wet  my  feet,  and 
I  want  to  keep  well  very  much." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sallie,  who  had  just  stepped 
out  of  the  water,  and  was  wringing  out  her 
dripping  skirts :  "  it  don't  hurt  me  to  go  in 
the  water ;  but  it's  not  good  for  him." 

"  Are  you  sick  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"No,"  said  Johnny,  looking  as  if  he  thought 


34<5  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

the  little  girls  were  blaming  hiin  in  their  own 

minds  for  not  taking  the  wetting  himself,  as 
indeed  they  were. 

"  He's  not  just  sick,"  said  Sallie  ;  "  but  he's 
not  just  strong,  and  we're  bound  he  shall  go 
to  school  this  winter,  at  least  for  one  quarter. 
[He's  an  awful  fellow  for  his  books  and  learn- 
ing.^ 

"  Will  one  quarter  make  him  too  sick  to  go 
any  more  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  Oh  I  I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  Sallie,  sit 
ting  down  on  the  rock,  and  spreading  out  her 
wet  feet  and  dress  to  dry  in  the  sun  ;  "  but, 
you  see,  we're  not  sure  we'll  put  by  enough 
money  even  to  pay  for  one  quarter.  Shall  I 
tell  you  about  it  ?  "  she  added,  seeing  her  little 
customers  looked  interested. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bessie. 

''  Well,  as  I  said,  Johnny's  such  a  fellow  for 
book  learning,  and  he's  smart  too  ;  and  these 
two  winters  he's  tried  hard  for  going  to  the 
Common  School  down  in  the  town ;  but  it's  a 
terrible   long  walk,   and   so   cold ;  and   both 


Water-Lilies,  347 

fears  he's  been  taken  down  sick,  and  had  to 
give  it  up  ;  and  the  doctor  told  father  he  was 
not  to  try  it  again.  But  there's  a  yoimg  man 
lives  just  round  the  turn  of  the  road  who  is 
learning  to  be  a  minister,  and  he's  ready  to 
teach  a  few  boys  if  they  pay  him  for  it ;  and 
father  said  he  couldn't  afford  to  pay  a  dollar 
this  winter,  for  it's  been  a  bad  year  with  him  ; 
but  he  said  we  might  keep  all  we  could  make 
ourselves  to  pay  for  Johnny's  schooling ;  but 
I  don't  know  as  we're  likely  to  put  by  even 
enough  for  one  quarter.  So  that's  the  reason, 
you  see,  why  I  go  in  the  water.  I'm  hearty, 
but  Johnny  takes  cold  easy,  and  then  he 
coughs." 

"  Yes,  '  one  man's  meat  is  another  man's 
poison,'  "  said  Maggie.  "Well,  you're  a  good 
girl  and  a  dutiful  sister." 

"  We'll  buy  water-lilies  of  you  every  day," 
said  Bessie,  "  so  we  can  help  along.  But 
we  don't  come  this  way  every  day,"  she  added, 
thoughtfully. 

"  We  could  bring  them  to  you,  if  you  liked," 


348  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

said  Johnny.  "  We  do  take  them  every  day 
to  a  lady  down  yonder,"  and  he  pointed  in  the 
direction  of  the  bluff  on  which  Colonel  Rush's 
house  stood,  with  several  others. 

This  was  agreed  upon  ;  and  the  nurse,  saying 
they  must  be  moving  homeward,  as  it  was 
time  to  go  to  the  beach  and  bathe,  they  said 
good-by  to  Johnny  and  Sallie. 

'-'-  I've  a  plan  in  my  head,"  said  Maggie  ; 
"  but  then,  I've  learned  experience  by  a  very 
bad  lesson,  so  I  thought  I'd  better  not  mention 
it  till  I've  advised  with  mamma." 

Maggie's  bad  lesson  was  this,  — 

One  day,  just  before  they  left  home  for  the 
Southern  trip,  Maggie  was  standing  on  the 
front  stoop,  waiting  for  her  mother  and  Bessie, 
with  whom  she  was  going  out,  when  a  poor- 
looking  man  spoke  to  her.  He  told  a  most 
pitiful  story ;  and  Maggie,  full  of  sympathy, 
emptied  her  little  purse  into  his  hand.  But 
this  did  not  satisfy  the  beggar  ;  and  he  asked 
"  if  the  little  lady  had  not  an  old  coat  to  give 
a  poor  soldier." 


Water-Lilies.  349 

"  I'll  ask  mamma,"  said  Maggie,  and  off 
she  rushed  upstairs,  leaving  the  beggar-man 
standing  on  the  stoop  by  the  open  hall-door. 

Mamma  said  she  could  not;  give  old  clothes 
away,  unless  she  was  sure  the  man  was  de- 
serving :  for  she  knew  of  many  such  who  needed 
them  ;  and  told  Maggie  to  go  back  at  once 
and  tell  Patrick  to  shut  the  door,  and  she 
would  see  the  man  when  she  came  down. 

But  when  Maggie  reached  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  the  beggar  was  gone.  So  far  from  wait- 
ing for  the  old  coat,  it  was  soon  found  that  he 
had  walked  off  with  a  new  one  of  papa's,  which 
lay  on  the  hall  table. 

Poor  Maggie  was  excessively  mortified,  and 
much  distressed,  not  only  at  the  loss  of  the 
coat,  but  at  that  of  her  little  stock  of  spending 
money.  Mamma  made  the  last  good  to  her  ; 
but  told  her  she  should  not  do  so  again  if 
she  acted  without  thought ;  and  begged  her 
to  take  counsel  of  some  older  person  when 
she  felt  inclined  to  help  those  she  did  not 
know. 


350 


Bessie  on  her  Ti-avels, 


So  Maggie  had  "  learned  experience,"  and 
since  that  time  had  been  careful  to  ask  advice 
before  she  allowed  her  sympathies  to  run  too 
f»^  with  her. 


XY. 

«  OF  SUCH  IS   THE  KINGDOM  OF  HEAVEN/ 


HEY  all  bathed  on  the  little  beach  near 
home  that  morning  ;  and,  as  soon  as 
they  had  gone  back  to  the  house, 
Maggie  called  Bessie  and  Belle,  and  they  went 
together  to  mamma's  room  to  unfold  Maggie's 
plan  and  ask  her  consent  to  it. 

What  a  pretty  room  that  was  !  Mrs.  Rush 
had  taken  a  fancy  to  call  it  the  "  Lily  Room," 
and  to  furnish  it  accordingly.  The  carpet  was 
green,  and  the  furniture  painted  the  same 
color,  and  ornamented  with  water-lilies  where- 
ever  they  could  be  put,  —  on  the  head  and  foot 
boards  of  the  bed,  on  each  drawer  of  the  dress- 
ing bureaus,  on  the  panels  of  the  wardrobe 
and  the  backs  of  the  chairs,  in  short,  wherever 
there  was  room  for  them.     Over  the  mantel- 


352  Bessie  on  her  7 ravels, 

piece  hung  an  oil-painting  of  the  same  loyelj 
flowers  ;  and  now  the  room  was  filled  with  the 
natural  blossoms  brought  in  by  the  little  girls 
that  morning. 

Mamma  lay  upon  the  couch,  —  this  was 
covered  with  chintz  printed  with  water-lilies, 
too,  —  resting  after  her  salt-water  bath.  Her 
long  hair  was  spread  over  the  cushions  to  dry  ; 
and  Maggie  and  Bessie  were  busy  at  it  in  a 
moment :  it  was  their  great  delight  to  comb  it 
and  thread  their  fingers  through  it ;  and  dearly 
mamma  loved  to  feel  their  little  hands  twist- 
ing it  into  all  manner  of  fantastic  braids  and 
loops. 

Maggie  told  her  story  about  the  water-lily 
boy  and  girl,  and  then,  saying  that  she  thought 
there  must  be  a  good  deal  of  "  glove  money  " 
due  the  little  box  at  home,  asked  her  mother 
if  she  did  not  think  it  would  be  a  "  reasonable 
charity"  to  pay  for  Johnny's  schooling  next 
winter. 

Bessie  looked  surprised  at  this  ;  but  Belle 
clapped  her  hands,  saying,  — 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.     353 

"  You'll  let  me  help  too,  won't  you  ?  " 

^'  But,"  said  Mrs.  Bradford,  "  I  thought  you 
were  saving  that  money  for  another  purpose." 

"  Oh,  so  we  were^''  said  Maggie,  biting  her 
underlip  ;  "  if  I  didn't  forget  it.  What  a  child 
I  am  1  always  forgetting  one  thing  in  an- 
other." 

^' What  is  it?"  asked  Belle. 

"  To  buy  a  warm  cloak  and  a  pair  of  better 
spetacles  for  good  Mrs.  Granby,  who  is  al- 
ways being  kind  to  other  people,  and  never 
thinks  about  herself,"  said  Bessie. 

"  And  I  suppose  it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  put 
by  a  person  we've  known  for  so  long  for  people 
we're  hardly  acquainted  with,  only  through 
water-lilies,"  said  Maggie.  "  Oh  !  I  wish,  I 
wish,  I  wish  I  had  the  greatest  lots  of  money 
that  ever  were  seen,  so  I  could  give  every  one 
every  thing  they  wanted." 

Maggie  was  always  wishing  for  lots  of  money ; 
but  it  is  only  justice  to  her  to  say  that  it  was 
generally  for  the  benefit  of  others,  and  not  for 
herself. 


354  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"  Did  you  promise  Mrs.  Granby  ? "  asked 
Belle. 

"  No,  we  did  not  promise,  not  with  words," 
said  Bessie  ;  "  but  then,  we  made  up  our  minds 
to  do  it,  and  we  would'nt  like  not  to.  I  think 
it  would  seem  a  little  like  not  being  very  true 
in  our  hearts  to  Mrs.  Granby." 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  said  Maggie,  "  there  are  such 
lots  of  things  one  wants  to  do  ;  but  somehow, 
one  can't  seem  to  do  every  thing." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Bessie,  "  don't  you  think 
papa  would  like  to  help  this  boy  ?  He  has 
enough  of  money." 

"My  dear  child,"  said  mamma,  laughing: 
"'  you  must  not  think  there  is  no  end  to  papa's 
money.  He  has  a  good  many  people  to  help 
now,  and  he  cannot  do  for  every  one,  you 
know." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Maggie,  "  we'll  tell 
Uncle  Ruthven  and  the  Colonel,  and  see  what 
they  will  do.  I  don't  mean  we'll  ask  them  to 
help  the  lily  boy  ;  but  we'll  just  let  them  know 
about  him,  and  then  leave  it  to  their  own  con- 
science." 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.     355 

*'  Uncle  RLithven  has  a  good  deal  of  con- 
science about  poor  people ;  and  so  has  Uncle 
Horace  too,"  said  Bessie. 

But  somehow  the  children  could  not  find  an 
opportunity  to  tell  their  uncle  and  Colonel 
Rush  about  the  "  lily  boy."  For  the  next  few 
days  there  was  a  good  deal  of  company  coming 
and  going,  and  they  did  not  care  to  talk  about 
it  before  strangers ;  then  papa,  Uncle  Ruth- 
ven,  and  the  Colonel  went  off  yachting,  and 
stayed  a  week. 

Meanwhile,  Johnny  and  Sallie  came  to  the 
house  every  morning,  bringing  their  basket  of 
lilies  ;  and  when  the  little  girls  had  bought  as 
many  as  they  wanted  for  their  daily  gift  to 
their  mother,  Mrs.  Rush  and  the  other  ladies 
would  purchase  the  remainder.  So  Maggie 
and  Bessie  knew  that  they  were  helping  John- 
ny towards  his  heart's  desire  in  this  way,  even 
if  they  had  devoted  their  "  charity  money  "  t.3 
another  object. 

Early  on  the  morning  after  the  gentlemen 
had  returned,  the  children  had  gone  down  to 


35^  Bessie  on  her  Travels. 

the  sands,  and  were  playing  happily  together, 
when  Belle  came  on  her  daily  visit.  Belle 
considered  herself  almost  as  much  at  home  in 
Mrs.  Rush's  house  as  Maggie  and  Bessie  did. 

"  You  live  at  the  Ocean  House,  don't  you  ?  " 
asked  a  little  girl  one  day. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Belle  ;  "  I  don't  live  there. 
I  only  sleep  there,  and  eat  my  breakfast 
there.  I  live  at  Aunt  May's,  even  when  it 
rains,  'cause  Maggie  and  Bessie  and  I  can't  do 
wifout  oneanofer." 

She  now  came  running  swiftly  over  the 
beach  towards  Maggie  and  Bessie ;  and,  as 
soon  as  she  had  kissed  them  for  good-morning, 
said  eagerly, — 

"  0  Maggie  and  Bessie  I  what  do  you  fink  ? 
It  is  my  birfday  next  week,  and  papa  told  me 
to  choose  what  he  should  give  me,  and  I  can't 
think  of  any  thing  I  want.  Do  you  know  any 
thing  I  want  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,"  said  Maggie.  "  I  think  you 
have  about  every  thing  a  sensible  child  could 
want.     I  can't  remember  a  single  thing  ;  and 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.     357 

that  is  rather  a  bad  business  not  to  have  some 
thing  jou  want  for  your  birthday  present.  I 
think,  after  all,  maybe  it  is  a  better  economy 
not  to  have  all  you  want ;  but  to  save  up  your 
wishes,  so  you  can  think  of  something  when 
any  person  tells  you  to  choose  a  present." 

Maggie  said  this  with  her  wiseacre  air,  and 
Belle  and  Bessie  listened  with  solemn  admira- 
tion, believing  it  to  be  a  speech  containing  a 
great  deal  of  wisdom ;  nor,  indeed,  do  I  know 
that  they  were  far  wrong. 

"  How  much  is  your  father  going  to  cost  for 
your  present  ?  "  asked  Bessie. 

"  I  asked  him  that,"  said  Belle ;  "  and  he 
said  that  'pended  on  what  I  wanted.  He  said 
if  it  was  a  locket  or  necklace,  or  any  thing  that 
would  keep  till  I  was  a  big  girl,  he  would  not 
mind  giving  a  good  deal  of  money  for  it,  'cause 
he  had  to  give  me  a  present  from  mamma  and 
himself  too ;  but  if  it  was  only  a  toy  I  could 
break  or  be  tired  of  in  a  little  while,  it  would 
not  be  right  to  frow  away  much  money  on  it 
That  is  just  what  he  said.     I  'member  it  very 


35 S  Bessie  on  he?'  Travels, 

well.  But  I  don't  want  a  locket  or  those 
kind  of  things,  'cause  there's  a  whole  lot 
of  my  own  mamma's  pretty  things  I  can  have 
when  I'm  a  big  girl.  Papa  is  keeping  them 
for  me,  and  I  like  those  best.  And  I  can't 
think  of  a  toy,  not  one ; "  and  Belle  looked 
quite  melancholy  over  her  want  of  wants. 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie  again,  "  I  b'lieve  you 
liave  every  thing  in  the  world  a  child  could 
want." 

"  Not  my  mamma,"  said  Belle,  with  the 
touch  of  sadness  which  always  came  over  her 
when  she  thought  or  spoke  of  her  dead  mother. 

"  Dear  Belle,"  said  Maggie,  tenderly.  "  But 
then  God  gives  us  our  mammas ;  and  I  only 
meant  things   that   earth   people    could   give 

you" 

"  And,  Belle,  darling,"  said  Bessie,  "  your 
mamma  is  yours  yet,  even  if  she  has  gone  to 
Jesus  !  It  is  only  that  she  is  more  of  Jesus's, 
and  He  is  more  of  hers  now  she  is  ir>  His  homo 
with  Him." 

Belle  wiped  away  the  tears  which  had  gath- 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.     359 

ered  in  her  eyes ;  and  then,  with  Bessie's  arm 
about  lier  neck,  and  Maggie  holding  her 
hand,  sat  gazing  up  into  the  cloudless,  blue 
skj,  almost  as  if  she  expected  to  see  the  face 
of  her  "  angel-mother "  looking  down  with 
tender  love  upon  her. 

They  all  three  sat  silent  for  a  few  moments. 
The  waves  —  they  were  hardly  more  than  wave- 
lets, on  this  still,  calm  day —  came  up  with  their 
gentle  murmur  upon  the  beach  ;  and  there  was 
a  sort  of  golden  haze  upon  the  sea,  and  far  off 
on  the  horizon,  telling,  perhaps,  of  a  coming 
fog  later  in  the  day  :  but  the  sky  was  clear 
above  them  now,  and  all  was  bright  and  fair 
around. 

The  quiet  and  the  peace  stole  into  all  three 
little  hearts, —  God's  peace,  which  He  gives  to 
those  Avho  love  and  trust  in  Him,  and  who 
strive  to  do  His  work,  and  bear  His  will,  with 
simple  faith  that  He  knows  best,  and  will  order 
all  things  right. 

Old  Daphne  and  Jane,  each  with  her  work, 
sat  at  a  little  distance,  but  did  not  interfere 


360  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

with  the  children  more  than  to  see  they  did 
not  run  into  any  danger ;  and  were  occu- 
pied with  their  own  conversation,  the  burden 
of  which,  on  Daphne's  side,  was  the  extreme 
loveliness  and  sweetness  of  her  young  mis- 
tress ;  while  each  story  that  she  told  of  Belle's 
goodness  and  smartness  was  immediately 
matched  with  one  from  Jane  of  the  wisdom 
and  droll  sayings  of  her  particular  young 
charge.  Each  bird  sang  loud  in  praise  of  her 
own  nestling;  but  the  little  birds  themselves 
neither  heard  nor  heeded. 

"  Belle,"  said  Bessie,  after  a  little,  "  a 
thought  came  into  my  mind  just  now  ;  no,  not 
into  my  mind  either.  I  guess  it  was  into  my 
hearty  'cause  it  was  such  a  thought  of  love." 

"  Yv^hat  was  it  ?  "  asked  Belle,  looking  as  if 
all  thoughts  of  love  were  in  her  heart  towards 
the  dear  Bessie. 

"  About  your  mamma,"  said  Bessie.  "  You 
know  your  papa  said  he  had  to  give  you  a 
present  from  her.  I  just  thought  if  maybe 
you  wouldn't  like  to  have  her  present  some- 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.     361 

thing  that  by  and  by  would  be  fit  to  go  back  to 
neaven  like  a  jewel  for  our  Father." 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  answered  Belle,  to  whom 
the  oft-repeated,  oft-referred-to  story  was  nearly 
as  familiar  and  as  dear  as  it  was  to  Maggie 
and  Bessie.  ''Yes,  I  would ;  but  what  thing 
could  I  ask  for  that  would  be  like  that  ?  If 
you  want  any  thing  or  Maggie,  I'll  ask  23apa 
for  it,  and  give  it  to  you,  liever  than  to  have  it 
myself,  'cause  you're  so  dear  and  good  to  me. 
I  would,  Bessie." 

"Oil,  no,  Belle !"  said  Bessie.  "I  never 
would  hint  you  to  give  me  a  thing.  Mamma 
says  that  is  not  a  nice  thing  to  do ;  and  I  was 
thinking  of  something  better  than  that,  some- 
thing that  would  be  a  great,  great  help  to 
some  one,  and  last  a  great,  great  while,  maybe 
for  ever." 

"  Well,"  said  Belle,  "  why  don't  you  tell 
me  what  it  is  ?  You  know  I  don't  have  a  great 
deal  of  think  in  me  to  find  out  how  to  do  good 
for  ofers  ;  but  I  b'lieve  I  have  some  do  in  me 
when  I  know  how." 


362  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

^'  Yes,  you  have,"  said  Maggie,  "  and  some 
day  you'll  learn  how  to  think  for  yourself. 
You  see  you  have  not  been  quite  so  much 
brought  up  to  it  as  we  have.  That's  the  mercy 
of  having  such  a  papa  and  mamma  as  ours." 

"  Well,"  said  Belle  rather  hurt, ''  my  papa  is 
very  such  too,  and  I'd  rafer  have  him  than  any 
papa." 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  said  Maggie  quickly,  seeing 
that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  and  hastening 
to  heal  the  wound  she  had  unintentionally 
given ;  "  to  be  sure  you  would,  and  I  didn't 
mean  the  least  discompliment  to  your  papa, 
Belle ;  but  you  know  he  has  had  a  great  deal 
of  trouble,  and  so  has  not  had  time  to  teach 
you  so  much  as  our  papa  and  mamma  have 
taught  us." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,"  said  Belle,  quite  satisfied 
with  this  apology  ;  "  but  tell  me  now,  Bessie,  I 
can't  think  what  you  mean." 

"  Water-lily  boy,"  said  Bessie,  willing  to 
give  Belle  the  credit  of  thinking  out  the  mat- 
ter for  herself. 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,     363 

Belle  looked  puzzled. 

"  Lily  boy,  Johnny,  school,"  said  Bessie, 
helpmg  her  along. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Belle,  as  Bessie's  meaning 
came  to  her,  "  do  you  mean  I  could  ask  papa 
to  give  the  money  for  Johnny  to  go  to  school 
next  winter  ? " 

''  Yes,  dear,"  said  Bessie  ;  "  and  'cause  it's 
partly  your  mamma's  present  it  would  seem 
as  if  you  and  she  were  doing  good  together, 
and  as  if  the  help  for  Johnny  came  from 
heaven." 

"  Bessie  !  oh,  you  precious  love  !  "  burst 
forth  Maggie.  ''  You  need  never  say  another 
word  about  my  having  good  ideas.  If  I  have 
ideas  about  compositions  and  things,  you  have 
a  great  deal  better  ones  about  living.  I  never 
did  see  such  a  child  as  you  are,  —  no,  never ; 
and  I  hope  I  never  will :  one  of  such  a  kind 
as  you  are  is  quite  enough  for  me;^''  and  Mag- 
gie, after  gazing  at  her  sister  with  an  air  of 
the  most  intense  pride  and  satisfaction,  threw 
;  er   arms   about   her   neck   and   kissed    her. 


364  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

*'  Don't  you  think  that  is  lovely,  Belle  ?  "  she 
said  ;  "  and  don't  you  want  to  do  it  ?  " 

But  little  Belle  sat  silent  for  a  moment,  her 
eyes  raised  again  towards  her  dear  mother's 
home,  her  hands  clasped,  and  a  gentle,  happy 
smile  on  her  lips. 

Then  she  spoke,  with  that  same,  soft  smile, 
and  with  a  peaceful  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  was  just  saying  a  little  prayer  inside  of 
my  mouf,"  she  said,  "  to  ask  Jesus  to  make 
papa  feel  like  doing  it,  so  dear  mamma  and  I 
can  do  some  work  for  Him  togefer.  And 
papa  will  be  helping  too,  all  fee  of  us  to- 
gefer," added  the  dear  little  thing,  to  whom 
no  thought  could  bring  more  happiness  than 
the  one  that  mamma  in  heaven,  waiting  for 
papa  and  Belle,  would  know  and  be  glad  when 
she  tried  to  please  Jesus  and  to  do  His  work. 

"  I  shall  tell  your  papa  Johnny  is  an  honest 
boy,"  said  Maggie.  "  You  know  we  know  he 
is,  'cause  that  day  when  the  lilies  were  six 
cents  a  bunch,  and  he  had  no  pennies  change 
for  the  ten  cents  I  gave  him,  he  would  not 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.     365 

keep  it,  but  pulled  four  lilies  out  of  another 
bunch  to  make  it  even  with  me.  I  told  him 
he  could  keep  it  all,  too." 

"  I  guess  he  is  a  pretty  good  boy,"  said 
Bessie.     "  Sallie  says  he  is." 

''  I'll  tell  papa  all  about  him,"  said  Belle, 
which  she  did  as  her  father  drove  home 
with  her  that  evening  in  the  starlight.  The 
fog  which  the  morning  haze  had  foretold  had 
lasted  but  a  few  hours,  and  all  was  now  again 
fair  and  clear. 

'•^  Has  my  pet  thought  of  what  she  wants 
me  to  give  her  on  her  birthday  ? "  said  Mr. 
Powers. 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  Ah !  Maggie  and  Bessie  helped  you  to  it, 
I  suppose.  I  thought  they  would,"  said  Mr. 
Powers. 

"  Papa,"  said  Belle,  leaning  her  head  upon 
her  father's  breast,  and  gazing  upward  at  the 
stars,  "  if  a  present  comes  from  mamma,  it 
must  come  from  heaven,  and  so  it  ought  to  be 
somefmg  very,  very  good:  don't  you  think 
so?" 


366  Bessie  on  he?'  Travels, 

"  It  shall  be  what  my  darling  pleases,  if  papa 
can  bring  it  about,"  said  Mr.  Powers,  drawing 
her  closer  to  him  as  she  sat  upon  his  knee. 

"  The  fought  of  it  came  from  heaven,  I 
know  papa,"  Belle  went  on.  "  Bessie  gave  it  to 
me  ;  and  I  am  sure  Jesus  gave  it  to  her." 

"  What  is  it,  dearest  ?  "  asked  her  father. 

So  Belle  told  her  father  of  the  "  lilj  boy  " 
and  his  desire  to  go  to  school,  and  of  what 
she  wanted  for  her  birthday  gift  from  him  and 
dear  mamma. 

"  And  you  would  really  rather  I  should  do 
this  than  to  have  any  thing  for  yourself,  my 
little  girl  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Yes,  papa,  really,  really  I  would  ;  and 
then  you  know,  papa,  if  the  present  comes 
from  mamma  and  you,  it  will  be  as  if  she  and 
me  and  you  did  a  little  work  for  Jesus,  all  fee 
togefer,"  and  she  put  up  her  little  soft  hand 
caressingly  against  his  mouth. 

He  took  it  in  his  and  kissed  it,  but  no  more 
was  sail!  for  a  little  while,  as  they  drove  slowly 
home  in  the  still  summer  night. 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,     367 

"  Will  you  promise,  papa? "  said  Belle  at  last. 

"  Yes,  darling,  I  will  promise  ;  that  is,  you 
shall  send  the  boy  to  school  if  I  find  he  is 
steady  and  good,  and  his  parents  are  deserv- 
ing people." 

"  And  if  not,  papa  ?  "  questioned  his  little 
daughter,  fearful  lest  this  plan,  which  seemed 
to  bring  her  nearer  to  her  mother,  should  fail 
her  at  the  last. 

"  If  not,  or  if  I  find  any  reason  why  this 
thing  is  not  wise,  I  will  set  aside  the  sum  of 
money  it  would  have  taken,  and  we  will  soon 
fmd  some  way  in  which  mamma's  gift  may 
do  work  for  Jesus." 

Belle  was  satisfied. 

"  I  am  so  glad  my  darling  is  learning  to  be 
unselfish,  and  to  take  thought  for  others," 
continued  Mr.  Powers. 

"It's  all  Maggie's  and  Bessie's  fault,  papa, 
all  their  fault.  It  never  came  to  me,  myself ; 
but  they  taught  me  how.  And  it  makes  me 
want  to  be  good  when  I  see  them  good,  even 
when  they  don't  tell  me  a  word." 


368  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

"Yes,"  said  her  father:  "I  think  it  has 
been  a  great  blessing  to  you  to  know  Maggie 
and  Bessie." 

"  They're  the  best  of  all  my  blessings,  'cept 
only  you,  papa.  I'm  a  great,  great  deal  hap- 
pier since  I  knew  them,  and  I  guess  gooder 
too.  I  don't  slap  Daphne  now ;  and  I  don't 
fret  so  much  when  you  tell  me  a  thing  can't 
not:  do  I  papa?  " 

"No,  my  darling,"  said  her  father:  "my 
little  Belle  is  becoming  very  good  and  obedi- 
ent, and  I  see  she  takes  pains  with  her  quick 
temper  too." 

Mr.  Powers  felt  as  if  he  could  not  bear  to 
part  from  his  darling  that  night,  and  when 
Daphne  had  undressed  her  and  laid  her  in  her 
bed,  he  went  and  sat  beside  her,  and  held  her 
little  hand. 

"Put  out  the  light,  and  leave  the  window 
open,  pajDa,"  she  pleaded ;  "  so  we  can  look 
up  at  dear  mamma's  home.  See  how  bright 
the  stars  are.  Bessie  says  the  water-lilies  are 
like   the  stars  come  down   here,  so  we  can 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,     369 

think  the  stars  are  heaven's  lilies ;  but  they 
do  not  fade  like  the  lilies ;  do  they,  papa  ? " 
She  rambled  on  half  sleepily,  without  waiting 
for  an  answer.  "  And  Jesus  never  fades,  nor 
the  angels  He  takes  up  to  His  heaven.  Papa, 
I'll  try  to  be  like  a  little  water-lily,  and  then 
when  Jesus  has  done  wif  me  on  earf,  He 
will  gafer  me  up  to  His  home  where  mamma 
is." 

So  she  talked  on  about  mamma  and  Jesus 
and  heaven  till  sleep  came,  and  she  forgot 
alike  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  her  young  life. 

But  her  father  sat  there,  long  after  she  fell 
asleep,  and  thought  with  more  pleasure  than 
any  thing  had  given  him  since  his  wife's 
death,  of  the  work  which  "  all  fee  togefer " 
might  do  for  Jesus.  And  as  he  remembered 
the  many  mercies  which  God  had  still  left  to 
him,  especially  the  blessing  of  this  loving 
little  child,  he  took  shame  to  himself  that  he 
bad  allowed  his  own  great  grief  to  make  him 
forget  the  wants  and  troubles  of  others  ;  and 
he  resolved  that  on  each  Christmas  and  birth- 

24 


370  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

day,  from  this  time  forth,  Belle's  gift  from  hor 
*'  mamma  in  heaven,"  should  be  the  means  of 
doing  good  to  some  one  who  needed  it. 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word  respecting  the 
water-lily  boy  ;  and  the  very  next  day  went  to 
work  to  find  if  Johnny  Howe  and  his  parents 
were  worthy  of  the  help  his  little  daughter 
wished  to  offer  them. 

All  was  satisfactory.  Johnny's  parents 
proved  to  be  industrious,  deserving  people, 
with  whom  the  world  had  gone  rather  hardly 
for  the  last  year  or  two.  Johnny  himself,  a 
bright  boy,  eager  to  learn,  and  who  made  the 
most  of  all  his  opportunities.  His  father  and 
mother  thankfully  accepted  the  offer  Mr. 
Powers  made  to  provide  for  his  education  as 
long  as  they  should  need  such  help ;  and  dear 
little  Belle  was  made  happy  in  this  "  birfday 
present." 

Belle's  were  not  the  only  young  eyes  whicli 
gazed  upward  at  the  starry  sky  that  night  witli 
sweet  thoughts  of  the  heaven  beyond. 

Maggie  and  Bessie  had  gone  out  with  Colo- 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 


6i 


nel  Rush  to  see  Mr.  Powers  and  Belle  drive 
away  ;  and  the  evenmg  was  so  soft,  and  warm 
and  lovely,  that  after  they  had  gone  the  Colo- 
nel sat  down  upon  the  steps  of  the  piazza  to 
enjoy  it,  with  one  of  his  pets  on  either  side  of 
liim. 

It  was  very  quiet :  only  two  sounds  broke 
the  stillness  ;  the  ceaseless  song  of  the  sea,  — 
very  low  and  gentle  it  was  to-night,  —  and 
mingling  with  it  came  the  sweet  tones  of  Mrs. 
Rush's  voice,  as  she  sang  her  baby  to  sleep  in 
one  of  the  upper  rooms.  They  all  sat  listen- 
ing to  the  two  hymns ;  so  different,  yet  witli 
no  discord  between  them  ;  the  music  of  the 
one  blending  so  perfectly  with  the  music  of 
the  other. 

For  a  moment  the  sweet  singer  above 
paused  ;  then,  unconscious  of  the  listening 
ears  below,  began, — 

"  I  was  a  wandering  sheep." 

It  carried  the  Colonel  back,  back  to  that 
time,  now  nearly  two  years  since,  when  on 
just  such  a  night  as  this,  with  those   same 


372  Bessie  on  her  Travels, 

mingling  voices  sounding  in  his  ears,  peace 
and  rest  had  flowed  in  on  his  troubled  soul ; 
vv^hen  striving  to  reach  the  light  pointed  out 
by  the  beloved  little  messenger  beside  him, 
he  had  laid  hold  upon  the  cross,  and  felt 
its  brightness  all  about  him.  Its  rays  had 
beamed  clearly  for  him  ever  since  ;  for  he 
knew  from  whence  they  shone,  and  that  tliey 
should  never  fail  him. 

The  ba]:>y  slept,  and  the  young  mother's 
voice  ceased  as  she  laid  it  in  its  cradle  :  but 
its  father  sat  on,  with  the  music  still  sound- 
ing in  his  heart;  and,  as  if  the  holy  spell  wer' 
on  them  too,  his  little  companions  sat  as 
motionless  and  silent,  —  Maggie  leaning  on  his 
knee,  Bessie  with  her  hand  nestled  in  his,  her 
head  laid  lovingly  against  his  arm. 

Suddenly,  some  one  threw  back  a  blind  from 
the  library-window,  and  a  stream  of  light  was 
thrown  from  within  upon  the  sunny,  brown 
curls  which  lay  against  the  Colonel's  shoulder. 
He  looked  down  at  her. 

"  Bessie,  what  were  you  thinking  of,  dar 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.     373 

ling  ?  "  lie  asked,  as  he  saw  the  wistful  face 
and  earnest  eyes,  which  seemed  as  if  they  saw 
beyond  the  stars. 

"  A  good  many  things,  Uncle  Horace," 
answered  the  little  one.  "  I  thought  about 
Belle,  and  how  glad  her  mamma  must  be  to 
see  how  hard  she  tries  to  be  good,  and  I  know 
it  is  hard  for  Belle  to  be  good  sometimes  ;  and 
about  heaven  and  Jesus.  And  then  I  thought 
about  our  travels,  and  how  good  our  Father  in 
heaven  has  been  to  us,  and  how  I  wished  I 
could  do  something  very  much  for  Him ;  and 
then  —  and  then  —  Uncle  Horace,  I  don't 
know  what  made  me,  I  think  it  was  the  sound 
of  the  waves  —  I  thought  about  one  night  at 
Quam  Beach,  when  I  lay  awake  a  great  while, 
and  looked  out  at  the  stars  and  heard  the 
waves  making  just  such  a  soft  sound  —  and  — 
and  —  I  was  saying  a  good  many  little  prayers 
about  you.  Uncle  Horace :  it  was  the  night 
before  the  next  morning  when  you  told  me 
you  had  found  Jesus,  and  was  going  to  be  His 
soldier." 


374  Bessie  ofi  her  Travels. 

There  was  no  aiisv/er  in  words  ;  but  his  arm 
found  its  way  around  her,  and  clasped  her 
closer,  and  when  the  brave  soldier  could 
steady  his  A^oice,  it  was  to  Maggie  he  spoke. 

"  And  what  was  my  honey-bee  thinking  of, 
to  keep  her  so  quiet  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  of  our  travels  too,  Uncle 
Horace,"  answered  Maggie  ;  "  but  not  in  such 
a  very  superior  manner  as  Bessie.  I  was  think 
ing  wdiat  a  lovely  time  we  have  had  all  these 
months ;  and  now  how  glad  I  am  that  papa 
and  mamma  have  come  to  decision  to  stay  in 
Newport  till  it  is  time  to  go  home  in  the 
autumn.  I  like  Chalecoo ;  but  I'd  rather 
stay  in  this  lovely  place  than  to  go  anywhere 
else.     And  now  our  travels  are  done." 

"  For  the  present,  yes,"  said  the  Colonel ; 
*'but  we  have  all  still  one  road  to  keep, 
one  journey  to  go,  dear  Maggie  :  that  jour- 
]iey  that  shall  end  at  last  in  our  Father's 
house." 

"  Yes,"  said  Maggie,  with  grave  sweetness : 
"  the  narrow  road,  where  the  golden  letters 


Of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,     375 

and  the  silver  thread  shall  guide  us,  and 
where  our  Brother  will  help  us  where  it  is  too 
hard  for  us  to  go  alone." 

"  And  where  our  Father  has  let  us  find  a 
few  jewels  for  Him,  I  b'lieve,"  chimed  in  Bes- 
sie's soft  voice.  "  I  hope  we  may  find  some 
more,  but  He  knows  best." 

"  '  They  that  seek  shall  find,'  if  they  search 
by  the  light  of  God's  Holy  Word,"  said  tlie 
Colonel,  laying  a  loving  hand  on  each  little 
head  ;  "  but  we  may  not  know  what  treasures 
are  ours,  till  the  day  when  he  shall  make  up 
His  jewels." 


And  now  go  forth  on  your  travels,  my  Mag- 
gie and  Bessie,  followed  by  the  earnest  prayer 
that  you  may  be  the  means  of  drawing  other 
little  pilgrims  to  journey  beside  the  green 
pastures  and  still  waters  of  the  way  of  salva- 
tion, led  by  the  hand  of  the  gentle  Shepherd, 


376 


Bessie  on  her  Tiavels, 


who  has  said,  "  Suffer  little  children  to  come 
unto  me  ; "  and  who  will  guide  them  at  last 
to  that  perfect  home,  prepared  for  such  as  are 
Df  "  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 


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